Bang! Bang! Bang!
Jill Valentine was not soft. She couldn't be with the world depending on her.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Her finger pressed down on the gun trigger repeatedly. Every time she did, her aim was true and accurate.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Jill Valentine exhaled slowly, the familiar, acrid scent of burnt gunpowder filling her nostrils. She lowered the custom 9mm, her stance relaxed but ready, and peered at the target whirring toward her on its track. A tight cluster of holes marred the center of the silhouette's forehead. Satisfied, she hit the button to bring it closer.
The headphones she wore muffled the world to a dull roar, but they couldn't block out the heat of the South American afternoon that seeped into the poorly ventilated building. She wore a simple, sweat-dampened white tank top beneath an open, blue sleeveless blouse, practical clothing for the climate and the activity. She was here for focus, for the simple, clean geometry of aim and consequence. It was a respite she rarely allowed herself.
Another series of bangs erupted from the lane two over. She glanced sideways without turning her head. The man there was tall, with shoulders that strained against the fabric of his faded grey t-shirt. He handled the assault rifle with experience.
Jill knew this man. It was Carlos Oliveira. Even after all these years, a man of his looks could not be mistaken.
Carlos finished his magazine and glanced over, catching her look. A slow, challenging grin spread across his face, all white teeth against tanned skin. He nodded toward her target, then his own.
Jill gave a single, curt nod. A competition. Why not?
They set up fresh targets. Fifty feet. Timed drills. Carlos went first. His shooting movements sure and fast. His grouping was excellent, center mass. When he was done, he stepped back, smirking, and swept a hand toward her lane with a theatrical flourish.
Jill switched her pistol to her left hand, rolling the tension from her right shoulder. She didn't need the theatrics. She breathed in, breathed out, and her world narrowed to the front sight and the distant shape. The shots came, one after another, not as loud as the rifle but precise as a surgeon's scalpel. Bang! Bang! Bang! Each one a period at the end of a sentence. When her slide locked back, Jill brought the target in. Her grouping was tighter, just a hair to the left of the sternum, but one round had punched neatly through the paper target's left eye socket.
Carlos leaned over, looked, and let out a low whistle. "Still showing off, supercop."
Jill had won. She was faster.
The brown-haired woman removed her headphones, the real-world sounds rushing back in. "You left an opening. High and right. Your third shot."
Carlos laughed. "You're too much, lady."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
He shook his head, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. "Should have known. So. Jill Valentine. In the flesh. How'd you find me?"
"Does it matter?" she asked, placing her pistol on the bench and turning to face him fully. He was even more striking up close. The years had been kind. The same helmet of hair and the light beard, there was a leonine quality to him.
"Guess not," Carlos conceded. "Just impressed. I'm going by Mateo Cruz these days. Paid a lot of money for that name. The fact that you're standing here means it wasn't enough."
"You're not that hard to find if you know what to look for," Jill said, her tone all business. "And I know what to look for."
"Okay. So you found me and you won the shootout. What's the prize? You gonna arrest me for my terrible taste in aliases?"
"I want you to join the BSAA. The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance."
The playful light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a wary flintiness. He was silent for a long moment, looking at her as if trying to decipher a complex code. "The BSAA," Carlos repeated flatly. "The official, globe-trotting bioterror police. After everything… you think I want to put on another uniform?"
"It's not like the UBCS," Jill said. "You know that. And you know why it's necessary. The world hasn't gotten safer, Carlos. It's gotten braver. Or stupider. Labs in the mountains, black markets in the cities… it's…"
"It's what?"
"The latest intel points to something brewing in Central Asia. Something big. We need people who've been in the fog."
"Central Asia," Carlos muttered, looking away, his gaze distant. "Sounds lovely. Sandy. Explosive." He sighed, a heavy, weary sound. "I got out, Jill. I'm alive. My hands are… relatively clean. I have a little place. It's quiet. Why would I throw that away?"
Jill didn't, or perhaps, couldn't. answer immediately. The guilt was already a cold knot in her stomach, but she pressed on. "Because it's the right thing to do. And because I'm asking you."
Carlos studied her face, and a different kind of smile emerged, this one laced with self-deprecating irony. "Can't say no to a pretty lady, huh? Is that the play?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "And… yeah. Okay. Sitting on my ass is getting dull. The quiet is too loud." He jerked his head toward a wooden bench against the far wall. "Tell me more. But I'm not promising anything."
They sat. The bench was warm from the sun slicing through a high window. Jill laid it out—the suspected location, the sketchy intelligence on a new viral strain, and the need for him to lead a small, deniable insertion team. Carlos listened intently. He was tense with all the former levity gone. This was the soldier she remembered.
When Jill finished, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Okay. So, infiltration, reconnaissance, possible hot extraction. Standard hellfare."
"Too much for you?" Jill questioned as a light joke.
"Hah, I'm fine thank you very much."
To make a long story short, it was discovered a dozen women across Central Asia with a unique, one-of-a-kind bloodline had gone missing. Coincidentally, their phone signals were found circling the same area before disappearing. The only reason they had discovered this was because one of those women had been apart of the CIA. The government picked up her disappearance fast.
Carlos looked at her. "Who's team lead? You?"
Jill inhaled sharply. She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. "No."
"No?" Carlos straightened up, his brow furrowing. "Who is then?"
"You."
"Me? Wait, what? Wait, wait, wait…" Carlos tensed up. "Wait. You're recruiting me for a op in the ass-end of nowhere, but you're not going?"
"I can't."
"Why the hell not?"
"It's… complicated."
"'Complicated'," Carlos echoed with disbelief. "Jill Valentine, the woman who fought her way out of a city eaten by nightmares, finds something 'complicated'?" As if a switch had been flipped, his expression shifted from confusion to dawning, incredulous understanding. He leaned back against the wall, a slow, incredulous laugh escaping him. "No. You've got to be kidding me. You're not coming because you've got something better to do?"
"Carlos…"
"Let me get this straight," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "You track me down, shoot better than me, give me the 'world is in peril' speech, and then drop the news that you're sending me into the fire while you… what? Take a spa day?"
"It's…"
Jill couldn't finish her sentence.
Silence fell over. Carlos rightfully realized something was wrong. He knew she wasn't that foolish. If she had to ask him like this, there had to be some good reason.
"Never seen you this glum, supercop," Carlos said. "What's got you skipping out on a mission like this?"
"...it's…complicated," she murmured, her gaze fixed on the scuffed floor.
"You're thinking about said complicated thing, ain'tcha?"
"I am."
Carlos hummed. "So what is it you're thinking about?"
"I'm thinking about my husband, that's all."
"Your what now?"
As if summoned by the thought, the door to the range buzzed and swung open. A man walked in, squinting slightly against the relative gloom. Carlos only looked because he was shocked into looking. This dude was average. Pleasantly average. Nice-looking in a completely forgettable way and in khaki shorts and a polo shirt. He carried two sweating bottles of water.
"Hey, Jill!" he called, his voice cheerful. "Oh, who is this?"
Carlos couldn't believe it. He wouldn't.
This random guy walked up to them, smiling warmly, and handed a bottle to Jill first. She took it, and as her fingers brushed his, Carlos saw it—the transformation. Her stern expression melted. Her eyes, which moments ago had been the color of a winter sky, softened into a warm, cerulean blue. A real, unguarded smile touched her lips, lighting up her whole face in a way Carlos was certain he had never seen. Not in the ruined streets, not in the bar after, not ever.
"This is Carlos, George," Jill said. "I've…just met him today."
Huh? Why was she lying? Carlos' eyes darted from Jill to…George? George. George.
Like seriously, who was this guy?
"We just had a little shooting competition." She glanced at Carlos, and the ghost of her competitive smirk returned. "He's a bit of a sore loser."
George laughed. He extended his hand to Carlos. "Nice to meet you, man. George."
Carlos took the hand, his grip automatic. The handshake was friendly and he felt bad if he squeezed. He saw the matching platinum band on George's finger.
So his name was George, he was handing Jill water, and he wore a ring. Carlos discreetly looked at Jill.
How had he not noticed the ring on her finger?
Hot petty confusion flickered again in his gut. This guy? This perfectly ordinary man had married Jill? The woman who headshot zombies and roundhouse-kicked bioweapons? On the outside, Carlos managed a tight, polite smile. "Carlos. Good to meet you."
"By the way, don't be too salty, Jill used to be military." He leaned in with a whisper. "Delta Force is what she told me. That's above, like, the Navy Seals. It's amazing."
"Yeah…"
Was this guy stupid?
George looked around the range. "This is awesome. I've never been to a shooting range."
"So…why come?" Carlos questioned.
"We're on vacation, you know? First real one we've ever had. We finished a hike yesterday too and we're just trying to soak up all the South American culture." George then winked. "And because Jill said so. She says it helps with the shoulders."
Jill laughed. Carlos whipped his head at that. Seeing Jill laugh felt off.
"It does, love," Jill said, and Carlos whipped his head again.
George laughed. "So the lady says."
Carlos ended up nodding. Suddenly, he was the third-wheel. "Uh-huh."
"By the way, Jill, what kind of Mate do you want? There's a stall outside. They have, ah, what was it?" George snapped his fingers. "C-Con…"
"Con Palo," Carolos said for him.
"Yes, that! It's with stems. But there's also a seamless one. That's called, uh…"
"Sin Palo," Carlos finished again.
"Yea, and there's herb mix, roasted, and some others. So which one do you want?"
"I'll take the roasted. Thank you so much, George." Jill said that with the biggest smile in the world.
'Oh come on, he didn't even know any of the terms,' Carlos grumbled.
"Be right back." George dropped a kiss on her cheek and with a final friendly nod to Carlos, he was gone.
The door swung shut, leaving the ringing silence of the range behind. All the tension that Carlos thought was between him and Jill had evaporated. Jill's smile faded, but the softness around her eyes remained. She uncapped her water and took a long drink.
Carlos found his voice. "Husband," he stated flatly.
Jill's throat bobbed as she gulped her water. "Yes."
"You… settled down."
"I did."
Carlos shook his head, a thousand questions battling for priority. "Come on, really?" He gestured vaguely in the direction George had gone. "Jill, you're… you're you."
"He's a great man, Carlos." There was no defensiveness. Oh fuck, Carlos officially knew he was at the end game. "He's kind, and steady, and he loves me. Me. After everything… I wanted that. I needed that peace." Jill looked at him, her expression pleading now. "And as much as part of me wants to be the one going to Central Asia… I have a honeymoon to finish. We're driving up the coast tomorrow."
"To finish?"
"I…had to cancel our original honeymoon. Our wedding too, almost." She winced. "Everything was…rushed."
"Uh-huh. You, uh, should have invited me," he said lamely.
"Sorry."
The pieces clicked into place with an almost audible snap. Carlos's eyes widened. "Wait. He… he doesn't know what you do? Even now?"
"Technically, we're on our honeymoon. I told him I wanted to come here for the tourism, but…"
"In reality, it was to meet up with me. Your real honeymoon is later."
"Yes. But, but…" Jill was actually trying to come up with excuses. "He's think it's real and…please don't tell him."
Jill Valentine was not the kind of woman he imagined to plead. Yet here she was, doing just that for her husband. Her husband.
Hah. Here he thought they had something. No, he wasn't delusional, they did have something. She had…moved on. And…she wanted him to go while she want to…what? Make love to her man? For pleasure? Love? Seriously?
Jill bit her bottom lip, a rare show of anxiety. She looked down, confirming everything. "He thinks I'm a security consultant. Mostly paperwork. He knows about Raccoon City, of course, but the ongoing work… the BSAA… it's easier this way."
"Easier," Carlos repeated, the word tasting bitter. "So you want me to risk my life in some mountain hellhole so you can… what?"
Swallow his load? Suck his dick? Gasp and orgasm and make faces Carlos had never seen? All the while he led the charge for a mission that could end his life?
Ugh, he didn't want to imagine it but come on. He was a dude thinking about the girl he liked. A girl that apparently got married in the time they hadn't seen each other.
Jill's gaze snapped up, fierce and ashamed all at once. "I…" Then lowered again. "I really need this, Carlos."
He stared at her. This was the ask. Not for the world. Not for justice. For her honeymoon. For a life she clearly cherished. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a deep, weary resignation. He owed her. He owed her for Raccoon City, for his life, for the shreds of his soul she'd helped him salvage. And he saw the guilt twisting in her, the cost of this selfish request.
He sighed, a long, slow exhalation. He managed a smile, a small, crooked thing that held no joy but held a promise. "Yeah. Okay. I'll do it."
Relief washed over her features, so potent it was almost painful to see. "Thank you." Jill had never spoken with so much gratitude—and Carlos hated that it was because she was going to spend time with her husband. "You don't know what this means."
The door buzzed again. George returned, holding two traditional gourds of Mate. "Got the good stuff!" he announced. He handed one to Jill, then offered the other to Carlos. Carlos shook his head with a polite gesture. George shrugged amiably and took a sip from it himself. "So, you two up for another round? I'd love to watch. Jill's always so impressive."
Jill and Carlos exchanged a glance. He shrugged, smiling. "Why not?"
After finishing their Mates, they took their positions. Carlos loaded a fresh magazine. Like a lot of military peronelle, shooting kept his mind free. He glanced at George, who was leaning against the wall, watching Jill with an adoring, proud smile.
Jill found out he was looking and like some high school girl with a crush, she waved with her fingers, blushed, and looked ahead.
Carlos could only stare blankly. Seriously. What the fuck?
Clearing her throat and riding herself of her blush, Jill settled into her stance. She looked down the lane, but for a second, her eyes flickered to her husband.
"Break a leg, Jill!" George said. She probably couldn't hear because of the headphones yet Carlos saw her shoulders drop. That guy really had an effect on her.
The range officer called the start.
Carlos wished he could say he flexed on Jill and proved his worth.
He did not.
What followed wasn't a competition; it was a demolition. Jill shot with maybe a second of transition between targets—center mass, headshot, center mass. It was like watching an artist work, or a force of nature. George applauded and cheered. The love-struck, honeymooning wife was gone, and in her place was the consummate warrior, amplified, and…and inspired.
Carlos fired his own string, competent, professional, but his heart wasn't in it. George seemed to fuel Jill, to unlock a level of effortless skill that left Carlos in the dust. And the fact that she was married and wearing a ring fucked him up. When the final shot echoed and the silence rushed back in, Carlos could only laugh.
"Well fuck, Jill. Guess you won."
As Carlos glanced over, his smile and laughter faded. He saw George grinning and kissing Jill on the cheek. At that moment, he realized what he had agreed to.
'While I'm risking my life, she'll be riding his cock all day and night. She'll be moaning and gasping and arching her back while I'll be running from monstrosities. Are you kidding? Really?'
Ugh. He was sounding like a loser. Looking away, he tried to be happy for her. Yes, be happy. She moved on, so maybe he should too.
***
The motel was a short, whitewashed building on the edge of a sleepy coastal town. This wasn't where Carlos lived, obviously. He came here for work. He did card dealing for backdoor bars. Tough guys like him were respected for that and his services were appreciated throughout the country. The money was on low but he did get the occasional bonus if he rigged a game, like a small apartment unit without rent or a motorcycle.
Anyway, Carlos's motel room was cheap as hell. It was a place for passing through, not for staying. He lay on the stiff bed, staring at the water-stained ceiling, a cold bottle of local beer resting on his stomach. The ceiling fan clicked with every rotation, a metronome for his churning thoughts.
He heard the door to the room above him open and close. He sighed. "Shitty flooring…"
Then he froze up when he heard—
"George, that cock of yours never calms down, does it?"
Carlos couldn't fucking believe it. Jill was staying right above him and…
"Sorry, about that top of yours…it makes your tits look so good, babe."
Oh hell no. No, no, no. Carlos sat up. "You bastards…!"
Jill let out a laugh. Even through the flooring, he could tell it was lighter and freer than he'd ever heard it. Following the laughter, a suitcase was set down.
Ziiiip!
"---horny for my cock, aren't you?"
Whatever Jill's response was, Carlos couldn't hear it. Shame filled him. He hated that he did want to hear her.
Carlos suddenly laughed incredulously and took a long swig of beer. 'Fuck my life,' he told himself. A cruel, random joke of the universe. He was on the ground floor, Room 5, and to think Jill and her husband were directly above him in Room 15.
He tried to focus on the mission dossier he'd skimmed on his phone.
"Mmmph~! Mmmmm!"
Drip, drip, drip!
Carlos' imagination ran wild. His eyes flicked up. The loud drips and the mouth-filled hums…Jill Valentine was sucking dick. She was blowing her man.
"Such a good girl…" was what George said with confidence Carlos couldn't believe. "Alright, I'm nice and hard now."
There was a gasp as she pulled off his cock. Carlos tensed up. "No way, no way," he muttered.
Yes way. The bed above him squeaked.
"Mmmph~! Nggh! God, I missed this cock—!"
"You did? Yeah?"
"Y-yes. C-can I, mmpmh, admit something?"
Wait…was…was George still pushing in? Carlos listened intently, breath held. He could hear Jill whimpering. His own cock started stirring. It was hot. Different from her grunts, since it had this feminine edge and vulnerability. A bit more rhythm too.
"You can tell me anything, Jill."
"W-whenever I, ngggh, shoot at the shooting range…it's fun b-because my pussy stirs a little."
Woah. Carlos' cock shot right up in his pants. A sizable seven inch tower made up his bulge.
"Oh fuuuck! Oh fuuuuck!"
And when he got hard, when she said that, Carlos heard a clap. George must have drove every fucking inch of his cock inside.
"Thank you for telling me, Jill. You deserve a reward."
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Unh! Ohhh~! Ohhh~! George! Yes, yes—"
Jill must have realized she was being loud, because he heard her clamping a hand on her mouth.
Carlos's entire body went still. His dick started pressing hard against his pants, oozing pre-cum too. The beer bottle was clasped in his hands.
Creak…! Creak…! Creak…!
The creaking settled into a steady, unmistakable rhythm, along with the loud claps. Were those his fucking balls? Smacking against Jill's ass?
"Fuck…!"
To deny they were fucking was to deny reality. To deny that Jill had a husband was to be delusional.
The creaking was slow, at first, then it picked up pace. CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! A soft, breathy gasp filtered through the floorboards. It was Jill. It was Jill. A moan followed, utterly unlike her controlled range voice.
"Mmmph~!"
"Let me put that hand away, honey. Don't worry, it's a motel, I'm sure they've heard people fucking."
Jill had the strength to smack away any man's hand. She didn't. That hand must have slipped because a moment later: "Oh, George…! George~! Y-your cock is too—!" Her voice was a wanton sigh, crystal clear in the quiet night. "I looove it! I love it! Mmmpph~!"
Then he heard her sucking. She…Jill was sucking his fingers while he slammed into her. Balls smacking against her pale ass. CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
Carlos's jaw tightened. He closed his eyes, but that only made it worse. His imagination painted the scene in brutal, high Definition detail. George, that plain, pleasant man, naked. That monstrous, thick cock, now fully erect, plunging into Jill. Jill, the legendary S.T.A.R.S. operative, on her hands and knees, taking it.
Bent over, spine arched beautifully, her eyes rolling back. Her hair was short and not to be yanked.
"Ohhh, goddd~! Your dick is SO perfect! Mmmpph!"
He could hear it: he was grabbing her hair and tugging on it to make out with her. Bastard was practically using her like a cocksleeve.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
The rhythmic squeaking became faster too. The bedframe started to knock against the wall and Jill's gasps turned into sharp, choked cries. "Y-yes! Right there! Fuck, right there! I'm cummiiiing~!!"
Al-fucking-ready?
"What is this guy, a sex god?"
"I looove it! I love thiiis~! I love this big coccck~! Soo deep! It makes me feel SO good~!!"
Carlos felt a hot, shameful twist in his gut. It was arousal. It was a devastating mix of jealousy and being cucked.
He liked Jill. He did. But those moans, man…
"I'M CUMMIIING AGAAAIIIN~!"
He flinched and had to cover his face. He felt embarrassed for her. Forget the building, the whole block was going to hear her.
"THIS DIIICK~! I LOVE THIS DICK! SOO DEEEP~! SHOOO DEEEP~!"
The doggy-style was a reality just above his head. Each wet slap was followed by a choked, guttural cry from Jill. Just how big was this fucker's cock? He imagined it was gargantuan cock with how loud everything was. Pistoning in and out, his heavy balls slapping against her sweat-slicked ass and dripping pussy with every brutal thrust. Jill's face would be buried in a pillow, her fingers clawing at the sheet.
"Harder!" she begged, her voice shredded. "Fuck me harder! Ruin me!"
He never thought those words would come out of Jill.
"Haha, you always say that!"
George always thought those words would come out of Jill.
What a difference.
The slapping sounds became thunderous. The entire ceiling seemed to vibrate. Jill had shed every layer of the cool, composed agent. This was Jill Valentine stripped bare—a primal, hungry, gloriously wanton woman being utterly and completely claimed by her husband. There was no mission here, no trauma, no guilt. Just a big, perfect dick and the mind-blowing pleasure it was drilling into her.
The sounds built to a frenzied pitch. Jill was sobbing now, little broken pleas interspersed with screams of pleasure. "Don't stop! PLEASE, don't stop! I'm—I'm gonna—!"
Cum?
Of course.
Unrestrained and shockingly loud, she announced it again: "CUMMING~!!" It tore through the floor, a wordless, powerful wail that shook the walls. The bedsprings screamed and the headboard pounding the wall one last time. Carlos could almost feel the vibrations through his own mattress.
There was a roar from the male specimen that was pounding Jill, then shuddering grunts.
He was cumming—probably inside her.
Carlos heard the grunts and womanly gasps and was glad for it. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 'It's over. Thank God.'
Except it wasn't. The respite lasted less than a minute.
He heard a soft, wet sound. A kiss. Then the bed squeaked again, differently. A shuffling of bodies. Jill giggled. "Again? You're insatiable."
"For you? Always," George murmured.
'No. No, they can't,' Carlos thought. 'He's already hard? H-how!? My little guy couldn't possibly—'
But George could and the sounds began anew. Like traitorous cinema, his mind supplied the image: George on his back, Jill riding him, impaling herself on his big dick. Her toned ass rocked back and forth, then started bouncing.
"Mmmph~! Even when I'm on top, i-it's so thick!"
"Haha, you glad for it, babe?"
"Very."
Jill definitely smiled.
Jill definitely gasped louder and louder until she threw her head back.
"CUMMIIING~!!"
Fucking hell.
They fucked for ten more minutes. There was that grunt as George announced he was cumming. The sounds changed once more. A thud, as if someone's knees hit the floor. Muttered words, then a new, slick, rhythmic slapping sound.
"Mmm, cleaning my cock like a good dutiful wife. You know, I'm really glad we took this honeymoon. With how much you work…" George groaned. "Ohh, fuck! That's right, Jill! Suck my balls too."
Carlos couldn't take it. He grabbed the two thin pillows from his bed and clamped them over his ears, pressing down until his head ached. It was futile. The vibrations traveled through the bedframe, through the floor.
Jill chose this. A life of peaceful, passionate, incredibly well-fucked bliss. With a man who looked like an accountant but fucked like a porn star.
The pounding seemed to go on forever. Just when he thought it must be ending, a new position would start, with new sounds, new cries. He heard Jill's voice, strained and high, "FUCK ME Please, FUCK ME~!!!" and then a series of sharp, gasping cries that sounded like she was being jolted with electricity. He pictured it—George holding her aloft, her legs wrapped around his waist, her back against the wall, driving up into her with powerful strokes in a full nelson.
Carlos got zero sleep that night.
…
…
…
TWO HOURS IN
So, George. Who was he?
Well, he was just some dude. He was. A dude with a big cock and an even bigger libido. Two hours in and he was smiling. He said, "Phew! Been a great warm-up so far!"
George stood at the foot of the bed, his khaki shorts and polo shirt a forgotten pile on the floor. The ceiling fan tried to dispel the musk of sex or drips of pre-cum from the frankly ridiculous, god-like monument rising from his groin.
It was worse than Carlos feared. If he had the cock that domesticated Jill, he might have understood to some extent why it happened. He might have also lost all confidence as a male.
See, even after two years of marriage, this "ordinary" cock still stole the breath from Jill's lungs. It was the kind of tool that all men with crushes feared. It was what they hoped their would-be lover had not yet encountered.
A true twelve inch cock.
Not just long, it was thick with a flushed red at the bulbous head that flared out from a shaft as thick as a woman's wrist. It stood out from George's body at a proud, upward angle.
Seeing it was believing it. Carlos hadn't seen it. He assumed that maybe it was eight or nine inches. Just a couple inches bigger than him.
Nope. This was was more than five inches longer, and nearly twice as girthy to add insult to injury. Carlos truly was blessed. He had only heard what George's cock did.
Below the ludicrous cock, the ludicrous sac of his testicles hung a pair of large, potent orbs that implied one thing: they would never empty. This was the engine of Jill's addiction. This was the reason the cool, calculated agent had melted into a needy, pleading wife.
Jill lay on her stomach on the rumpled sheets, propped on her elbows. Her eyes flicked up to meet his eyes. "This thing…you sure you haven't undergone any experiments?"
George smiled, that kind, easy smile that made his ordinary face seem radiant to her. He gripped the base of his cock, giving it a slow, possessive stroke. "Of course not. It's not that big."
Jill snorted and stared at the tip. "Trust me." She licked the tip. "It is."
"Well, it's all yours, Jill. Always has been."
That was the truth of it. After Raccoon City, after the nightmares and the hyper-vigilance and the feeling that her body was a weapon first and a woman second, George had been her sanctuary. And his cock… his cock had been her therapy. The first time she'd seen it, she'd laughed in disbelief, then cried. The first time he'd entered her, her world changed and sex had become a revelation. A need. Fuck, it was more than just pleasure, it was a full-body reset. It pushed everything else out. The fear, the memories, the constant tension—it was all obliterated by the sheer, overwhelming fullness. He rearranged her guts and her heart. And when he came, pumping what felt like a gallon of hot seed deep into her womb, it felt like a claim, a cleansing, a permanent brand. She became addicted to that feeling—of being so thoroughly used and filled by someone who loved her. It made her weak. It made her his.
"On your knees, Mrs. Valentine," George said, his tone gentle but leaving no room for debate.
"You know, I don't mind changing my last name for you…"
"Nah, I love it. Jill Valentine, it's beautiful."
See? This was why she loved him. This was why Jill obeyed instantly, pushing herself up and onto her hands and knees at the edge of the bed. The position arched her back, presenting her ass to him. Her pussy was already dripping, her slickness coating her inner thighs. She looked back over her shoulder, her blue eyes glazed.
George's hands smoothed over the pale, toned booty. He kneaded the firm globes, spreading them apart. Her exposed, wet folds were re-introduced to the spongy head of his cock.
"Mmm, you make me so horny, I can't stand it~!" She threw the dirtiest, slutties look she could. She felt his cock throb.
"If you keep looking at me that way, I'm not responsible for what happens to your cunt."
"When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think of is how you fuck me," Jill said. "So that was the plan."
He smiled, he thrust, and he made Jill's eyes roll back.
********
FULL PART ON PATREON!