For a mont, he didn't respond. His face remained unreadable, his eyes dark and unwavering as he t her gaze. Then, finally, he spoke.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Grace." His voice was calm, steady—too steady. But just as she opened her mouth to press him further, he added, "But I do know where we go from here."
Without hesitation, he climbed into the passenger seat, settling in as if he had no doubts, no fears—just complete confidence in whatever ca next.
"Drive," he said.
And despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding her mind, she found herself obeying.
The night, unsurprisingly, ended at a love motel.
"Ahnnn… ohhh… ughhh…" Grace moaned shalessly, her body arching beneath Ross as he pounded into her without restraint.
Every stroke sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her, her mind slipping deeper into the intoxicating haze of lust.
She was used to this, used to being taken to heaven and back by him, yet each ti felt even more intense, more overwhelming than the last.
Ross had never once disappointed her in bed.
Unlike her husband, whose impotent state had persisted for months, Ross was the only man who could satisfy her, the one who could drag her into a world of bliss, pleasure, and paradise all at once.
He knew her body too well, knew exactly where to touch, where to thrust, how to make her unravel beneath him. She had long stopped resisting, long stopped feeling guilty.
She had given herself over to the sinful delight he brought her, and now, all that mattered was how good he made her feel.
Her hands clawed at the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as her hips moved instinctively, eting him thrust for thrust.
She loved this—the rawness, the desperation, the way their bodies crashed together in an almost frantic rhythm. It wasn't just about her pleasure; she wanted to give Ross sothing in return.
He made her co over and over again, reduced her to a quivering ss every ti, and she was determined to do the sa for him.
Her walls clenched around him, milking him, pulling him deeper, and she felt the way his movents grew more erratic, more desperate.
The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding, the wet, obscene slaps of flesh against flesh, the bed creaking beneath them as they chased another peak together.
Ross, just like her, had an endless stamina. He could go for hours, could co again and again, and still be ready for more.
Their slick bodies moved in perfect sync, the sheets beneath them damp with sweat and the evidence of their pleasure. And then—
Pew.
Pew.
Pew.
Ross ca hard, his release spilling deep inside her as he let out a low, guttural groan.
The sensation triggered Grace's own climax, a mind-shattering explosion of pleasure that sent her body into violent tremors.
"ROSSSSSSSSSS!" She scread his na, her voice raw with ecstasy as she clung to him, her legs tightening around his waist.
It hadn't even been a few minutes since they had started, and yet, they were already tumbling into another wave of pleasure. And she knew—this was far from over.
Ross would take her again and again, until she was utterly spent, until she had nothing left to give.
And she couldn't wait.
"You have nowhere else to return to, Grace. Just co with , and I'll make you happy like this every night. Just imagine the things we could do together."
Ross's voice was low and velvety, dripping with temptation. His words wrapped around her like a spell, drawing her deeper into the web he had been weaving for days.
He knew exactly what he was doing—luring her with promises, seducing her with pleasure, until she could no longer distinguish between what was right and what felt too damn good to resist.
His smile was lazy, confident, filled with the certainty of a man who already knew her answer before she could even speak it. But words weren't the only tools he had to break her resolve.
His hands moved with deliberate purpose, kneading her full breasts, rolling her sensitive nipples between his fingers, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight to her cunt.
Her breath hitched as his other hand traced a slow, torturous path down her stomach, teasing, igniting, making her body react before her mind could catch up.
Grace shuddered, biting her lip, trying to fight the rush of heat coursing through her veins. She shouldn't be feeling this way, not after everything, not after all the lines she had already crossed.
But when Ross touched her like this, when he spoke to her in that deep, hypnotic voice, she lost all sense of reason.
And then, she felt it.
The thick, pulsing heat of his cock still buried inside her. He hadn't pulled out, hadn't softened in the slightest.
Even after everything they had done, he was still rock hard, still ready to take her again, as if his hunger for her was endless. And maybe it was.
Her pussy clenched involuntarily around him, sore yet aching, swollen from the relentless pounding she had endured for three straight nights.
Ross had not given her a mont to truly recover, and yet, despite the exhaustion weighing on her body, she felt an undeniable, growing need for more.
The dull ache between her legs was a constant reminder of what he had done to her—how he had fucked her senseless, over and over, until her body no longer belonged to herself but to him.
She had lost count of how many tis she had co, how many tis he had made her scream his na, how many tis she had sworn she couldn't take any more, only for him to prove her wrong again and again.
And now, here they were, on their fourth consecutive night together.
Since last Friday, she had known nothing but Ross—his touch, his kisses, his body claiming hers in ways she had never experienced before.
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