Chapter 1224: Chapter 1224 Award
Jenny’s breasts bounced with every impact, nipples still flushed and sensitive from his earlier attention.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper, harder.
Each stroke filled her pletely, dragging along every nerve inside her.
The friction was exquisite—hot, slick, overwhelming.
Her moans turned into breathless cries, spilling out with every exhale.
“Yes… oh God, yes… Ross…”
He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a messy, hungry kiss.
Tongues tangled, teeth grazed lips, breaths mingled in sharp gasps.
His hips never faltered, driving into her with increasing force, chasing the same edge she was racing toward.
The pressure built again—faster this time, hotter, more desperate.
Her nails raked down his back; her body arched to meet every thrust.
She could feel him thickening inside her, feel the telltale tension in his muscles.
“e with me,” he growled against her ear.
That was all it took.
Jenny shattered a third time—harder than before—her pussy clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses.
Her cry muffled against his shoulder as pleasure ripped through her in blinding waves.
Ross followed a heartbeat later, burying himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan.
Heat flooded her, pulse after pulse, as he emptied deep inside.
They stayed locked together for long minutes afterward, breathing ragged, bodies trembling.
Slowly, reluctantly, he eased out, both of them wincing at the loss.
Ross gathered her close, pressing soft kisses to her damp forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
Jenny curled into him, boneless and sated, the long ache of loneliness finally, blissfully quiet.
The bedroom air had grown thick and humid, saturated with the mingled scents of arousal, sweat, and the faint musk of their earlier releases.
Jenny’s body still hummed with residual pleasure, every nerve ending alive and tender.
She lay face-down for only a moment longer before Ross’s warm palm slid up the length of her spine—slow, deliberate, a silent instruction.
She didn’t need words.
With a soft, shaky exhale, she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.
The position felt raw, exposed: back arched instinctively, ass lifted high, thighs parted just enough to reveal the glistening evidence of how thoroughly he had already claimed her.
Cool air kissed the slick heat between her legs, making her shiver.
Her arms trembled slightly from the earlier orgasms; her breasts hung heavy beneath her, nipples still flushed and hypersensitive, brushing the cool sheets with every small movement.
Ross settled behind her like he belonged there.
One large hand smoothed reverently over the curve of her hip, then up along her waist, tracing the dip of her spine before settling between her shoulder blades.
He pressed gently—down—guiding her chest lower until her forearms rested on the mattress and her forehead touched the pillow.
The new angle deepened the arch of her back, tilted her pelvis just right, offering herself pletely.
Jenny felt the vulnerability of it in her bones, and yet it only made the ache between her thighs pulse harder.
She heard the soft rustle of sheets as he shifted closer.
Then came the heat of him—his thighs bracketing hers, the blunt, velvet head of his still-rigid cock nudging against her swollen entrance.
Even after everything, the sheer girth of him made her breath catch. He didn’t rush.
Instead he dragged the thick length of himself along her folds—up, down, coating himself in the slippery mix of her arousal and his earlier cum—teasing her open with slow, torturous glides.
Jenny whimpered into the pillow, hips twitching backward in silent plea.
When he finally pressed forward, it was with devastating patience.
The stretch began immediately—intense, beautiful, almost too much.
Her walls parted reluctantly around the broad head, fluttering and clenching as he sank in one thick inch at a time.
Jenny’s fingers knotted in the sheets; her breath came in short, broken gasps.
“Ohhhh…”
The moan spilled out long and trembling the moment he seated himself fully, hips flush against her ass, balls resting warm and heavy against her clit.
She felt impossibly full—stretched wide, pinned in place, every ridge and vein of him pressed intimately against her inner walls.
For several heartbeats they simply stayed like that: locked together, breathing in tandem, letting her body adjust to the overwhelming fullness.
Then Ross began to move.
He started slow—long, measured withdrawals that dragged every sensitive inch along her channel before sliding back in with controlled power.
Each deep stroke rekindled dying sparks, coaxing fresh heat to coil low in her belly.
Jenny’s moans came freely now—soft at first, then rising in pitch and volume as he gradually increased the tempo.
His hands tightened on her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh with just enough pressure to leave faint crescent marks.
The next thrust landed harder.
Pak.
The sharp slap of skin on skin rang out in the quiet room.
Pak.
Pak.
Pak.
The rhythm built quickly—long, punishing strokes that rocked her entire body forward with every drive.
The mattress dipped and creaked beneath them; the headboard resumed its steady, rhythmic thud against the wall.
Jenny’s breasts bounced heavily with the motion, nipples scraping against the sheets and sending sharp jolts straight to her core.
Her arms shook as she tried to brace herself, but Ross’s grip kept her anchored exactly where he wanted—open, arched, helpless to do anything except take every powerful inch.
“Ohhh… fuck… Ross… yes…”
Her voice cracked, fractured between moans.
This angle hit deeper, harder—every thrust kissed that perfect, swollen spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
Pleasure and pressure mounted fast, almost too fast. Her thighs trembled violently; sweat beaded along her spine and trickled down the small of her back.
She could feel herself leaking around him—wet, obscene sounds acpanying each withdrawal and re-entry.
Ross leaned forward, chest pressing hot along her back.
One arm banded around her waist while the other hand slid beneath her to cup a swaying breast.
He rolled the stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, then harder—matching the rhythm of his hips.
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