(KRYSTAL'S POV)
Valentino drags me to the edge of the bed with a force that makes me gasp. He stands between my legs, his gaze burning over me, from my heaving chest to where I'm spread open for him.
"Look at you," he rasps, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "So fucking greedy for it."
He grips the back of my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin as he pushes my legs apart, wider, wider, until I'm completely exposed. The cold air of the room hits my wetness, and I shudder.
"Valentino, please…"
"Please what, Krystal? Use your dirty fucking mouth. Tell me."
"I need you inside. Now."
A dark, satisfied smile plays on his lips. He lines himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He's teasing, rubbing himself through my slickness, making me whimper.
In one single thrust, he completely buries his cock inside me.
I cry out in pleasure. There's no gentle easing, no slow build. It's just him, all of him, stretching me, claiming me. My nails dig into his forearms, holding on for dear life as he sets a punishing pace.
"That's it, take it," he grunts, each word punctuated by a drive of his hips. "You love this, don't you? Love getting fucking ruined."
I can't form words. My head thrashes on the pillow. All I can do is moan, the sounds ripped from me with every impact. The pleasure is a live wire, sparking through my veins, coiling tight in my belly. I slide a hand between us, my fingers finding my clit, already swollen and desperate.
"Yeah, play with yourself," he encourages, his voice rough with lust. "Get yourself off on my cock. I want to feel you come."
I circle the sensitive nub, the dual sensation of his pounding and my own touch pushing me higher, faster. The room dissolves into a blur of sensation. The smell of his sweat, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sight of his muscles flexing. My breathing hitches, my body tightening like a spring.
"I'm gonna… Val, I'm gonna come!"
"Do it. Come for me."
My back bows off the bed, a loud moan slipping through my lips as waves of pure, electric pleasure crash over me. My pussy clamps down around him, milking his cock, and he lets out a deep groan, his rhythm faltering for just a second.
"Fuck, Krystal… again. I want to feel you come again."
He doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks me harder, deeper, using my orgasm-sensitized body for his own pleasure. And god, it works. The overstimulation is almost too much. My hips buck against his, meeting his thrusts, chasing the next peak. My fingers work frantically, and another, softer orgasm ripples through me, leaving me trembling on the bed.
He pulls out of me suddenly, the loss of him making me gasp. Before I can protest, his hands are on me, flipping me over onto my hands and knees. The position is animalistic, submissive. He kneels behind me, one hand gripping my hip, the other coming down hard on my ass.
The slap rings through the room, a sharp sting that blossoms into a deep, radiating heat. I cry out, but it's a sound of pure want.
"You have the most perfect ass," he murmurs, kneading the flesh he just struck. Then he's inside me again, from behind, his angle even deeper. He leans over my back, one hand reaching around to roughly grab my breast, pinching and pulling at my nipple. The mix of pain and pleasure is dizzying. I'm nothing but a vessel for his desire, and I love it.
He fucks me like that for what feels like an eternity.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I moan, my cries muddled by the sheets as he railed me mercilessly.
With a final, powerful thrust, he pulls out again and shoves me down onto my back. My head spins. He's on me in an instant, hooking my legs over his shoulders, bending me almost in half. He drives into me one last time, and I can feel every inch of him.
"I'm close," he warns, his pace becoming erratic, frantic. "Where do you want it?"
"Inside," I beg, my voice hoarse. "Please, fill me up."
He groans out loud, plunging deep inside my pussy, his body shuddering above me. I feel the hot, pulsing release inside me, claiming me, branding me from the inside out.
He collapses on top of me. I can feel him, still hard, still buried inside me, his climax subsiding into a thick throb.
For a long moment, there's only the sound of our ragged breathing. Then, he moves. He slides out of me with a soft, wet sound that makes me gasp at the sudden emptiness. A warm trickle escapes me, tracing a path down my thigh.
He pushes himself up on his arms, his dark eyes locked on the mess he's made of me. A possessive, wicked smirk plays on his lips.
"Look at you," he growls. "So fucking ruined. So full of me."
I can only nod, my body humming, my mind blissfully empty. He shifts, kneeling between my legs which are still hooked over his shoulders. His gaze drops to where his cum is just beginning to seep out of my well-used pussy.
"Not yet," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "You're not done."
Before I can process his words, his fingers are there. Two thick digits press against my sensitive, swollen entrance, smearing his release, pushing it back inside. A choked moan escapes me. It's too much. The sensation is overwhelming, a direct line of electricity to my overspent nerves.
"Valentino…" I whimper, my hips giving an involuntary jerk.
"Shhh," he commands, his voice low and hypnotic. "You can take it."
He pushes his fingers inside me, slowly, torturously. My inner walls clasp around them. He crooks his fingers, finding a spot that makes me see stars.
"Holy… FUCK!" I moan, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
He's fingering me with our mixed wetness, his cum making every movement slicker, hotter, more obscene.
"That's it," he growls, watching his hand work between my legs. "Your greedy little cunt is still hungry, isn't it? Still sucking me in."
His words are filthy, degrading, and they send another jolt of pure need straight to my core. He thrusts his fingers in and out in a ruthless, steady rhythm. The squelching sound is lewd, undeniable proof of what we just did.
"I… I can't…" I gasp, my back arching off the bed.
"You can," he insists, his thumb finding my clit, circling it with a brutal, perfect pressure. "You will. Come for me again. Squirt all over my hand, baby girl. Let me see what I do to you."
The combined sensations are too intense to fight. The stretch of his fingers inside me, the rough pad of his thumb on my clit, the knowledge that he's playing in our combined release—it short-circuits my brain.
A raw, broken scream tears from my throat as my body seizes. I convulse around his fingers, and a hot gush releases from me, soaking his hand, his wrist, and the sheets under us. It goes on and on, a shocking, uncontrollable wave of release that leaves me shaking and trembling afterwards.
He doesn't stop. He works me through it, his fingers gently milking every last spasm from my trembling body. When I finally go limp, completely shattered, he slowly pulls his soaking fingers from me.
He brings his hand to his face, inspecting his glistening fingers with a dark, primal satisfaction. Then, his piercing eyes lock onto mine.
"Open," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
My breath hitches. I know what he wants. The animal part of me, the part he's unlocked, trembles with a sick, deep need to obey. To taste our sin.
I open my mouth.
He pushes two slick fingers past my lips. The taste is musky, salty, uniquely us. It's the most intimate, degrading, and arousing thing I've ever experienced. My tongue swirls around his fingers, cleaning them, tasting our passion. My eyes never leave his. He watches me with intensity, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Good girl," he rasps. "Such a good, filthy girl for me."
He pulls his fingers out with a soft pop. I'm panting, my lips wet, my entire being completely used.
He leans down, his mouth hovering inches from mine. His breath ghosts over my face, carrying the scent of sex and sweat and us. Then he leans in and presses his lips against mine, soft and slow at first, then deeper—sliding his tongue past my lips.
I moan into his mouth as his hands roam my body, rubbing against my pussy again. He breaks the kiss and starts kissing down my jaw when suddenly—a loud ringtone breaks the moment.
Valentino stops. His forehead rests against mine for a second, his breath uneven. "That'll be me," he mutters, his tone tight with frustration.
He pushes off me and stands, then bends to grab his pants from the floor. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching as he fishes his phone from the pocket.
The instant he looks at the screen, something in his face changes. The sexual tension that was between us a moment ago vanishes, replaced by something heavier.
"Who is it?" I ask quietly.
His brows draw together and his jaw clenches. Then he looks at me and says:
"My father."