Chapter 151: Who Do You Belong TO (R-18)

Her breath hitched, voice trembling. "You... You—only you. My student and my man Peter, please—"

Her voice cracked, her whole body trembling like she was about to shatter. And I wasn’t done.

My hand slid under her again, fingers teasing her slick, sensitive spot just at the edge—keeping time with my hips, driving her closer to the edge.

She choked on a moan, thighs trembling, collapsing into the table as her second wave built—fast, fierce, a storm ripping through her.

"Come for me again," I said low, steady—demanding. "Right here. Like this. Let me

feel

it."

And she did.

Her whole body clenched tight around me, a raw, loud cry ripping free as she gave in—nails dragging across the wood, back arching hard, trembling and undone. I held her through it, never slowing, still driving deep, still claiming her.

I stayed connected until she went limp beneath me—spent, broken in all the right ways.

Then I let go too—buried myself one last time with a guttural groan, head dropping heavy against her shoulder as I released everything I’d been holding back.

We stayed like that—still joined, still shaking—our breaths ragged and uneven, her back rising and falling beneath me.

No words. Just that perfect, messy silence between two people who’d crossed a line and found something raw and real on the other side.

Just the sound of skin cooling, hearts pounding, and the soft hum of the world outside that didn’t even matter anymore.

She barely lifted her head, eyes half-lidded. "You just ruined desks for me forever."

I laughed low, warm, brushing slow, lazy kisses across her shoulder blades. "Good. That was the goal."

She stayed on all fours—chest pressed flat to the table, ass high and proud, body wide open and begging without needing to say a word.

I stepped in behind her, hand gripping her waist tight, sliding forward until I lined up perfectly with her heat.

Her breath caught in a sharp hitch the moment my tip brushed her slick folds.

"Peter..."

The whisper hit me like a thunderclap.

Slow and thick, I slid inside her with one deep, deliberate thrust—watching her back arch like she was breaking, fingers clawing at the table’s edge like she was barely holding on.

Then came the sound—

Smack.

Skin on skin.

My hips met her ass, the room filling with that wet, urgent, obscene rhythm—deep, sharp, addictive.

She gasped loud, breath hitching hard.

"Oh my god—you feel so deep—fuck—"

I grabbed her waist with both hands, pulling her tight into me, letting her feel every inch of me pressing deep inside. I set the pace—slow, deliberate strokes that drove deep and hard, each one landing with a solid smack as her ass bounced off my hips like it was made for this.

Each thrust pulled a new sound from her throat—whimpers that trembled, breathless moans that shook the air, her voice cracking when I hit just the right angle that made her body shiver.

Slap.

I brought my hand down on her ass—firm, commanding, just enough sting to make her jolt, a sharp gasp spilling from her lips.

She loved it.

Her moan skyrocketed—high-pitched, shaky, dripping with need. "Marcus, yes—do that again—"

So I did.

Smack.

Another slap landed hard on her ass, this time my other hand digging into her waist to steady her as I thrust harder. The table groaned beneath us, rocking with every impact. Her breasts bounced wildly with the movement, thighs trembling like they were about to give out, and her hair spread in a wild, tangled halo around her face as she fought to hold herself together.

But she couldn’t.

She was unraveling.

The sounds we made filled the room now—wet, filthy, and perfect. My name spilled from her lips again and again, each moan rougher, wetter, more desperate than the last.

"P-Peter—fuck—I can’t—" Her voice broke, ragged and raw.

I didn’t stop. Instead, I slipped my hand under her again, fingers sliding between her slick thighs, circling just right—finding that spot that made her body shudder uncontrollably.

Her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

"You’re gonna come again," I growled, voice low and sharp. "Right here. With me inside your pussy, my hot teacher."

Smack.

Another sharp slap against her heated skin.

She cried out—high, broken, and wrecked—as her walls clenched tight around me again, dragging me deeper into her.

"Oh god—Peter—please—I’m—fuck, I’m coming—"

Her whole body snapped taut, back arching like she was breaking free, head thrown back as a deep, ragged moan ripped from her throat.

Her orgasm hit like a storm—violent, wild, uncontrollable—and I held her through every twitch, every shudder.

Her moans echoed off the classroom walls, raw and beautiful, marking us as ours.

"Good girl," I growled, thrusting deep one last time, every inch sinking in like it was made to fit perfectly. "So fucking perfect."

She trembled beneath me, voice cracked and breathless, gasping my name like it was her lifeline. "Peter... Peter—oh my god..."

I leaned over her, chest flush against her back, hands gripping her hips tight as I buried myself inside her, groaning low and deep into the hollow of her neck as I finally let go—spilling deep, my body shuddering with the force of it.

The room filled with the aftershock—the slick sounds of skin sliding, ragged breaths mingling, and the soft hum of the lights overhead.

She stayed still—spent, collapsed on the table, cheek pressed to the cool surface, ass still raised high. Sweat glistened on her skin, painting her in a sheen of satisfaction.

I slid my hand down her back, still breathing heavy, and gently squeezed her ass—one last soft slap that made her shiver anew.

"You hear that?" I murmured.

She blinked up at me, dazed and breathless. "What?"

"The sound of mine."

Her body trembled, chest rising and falling against the table, hair a wild, tangled halo around her flushed skin.

I stayed buried inside her a moment longer, just breathing with her, letting the weight of everything we’d just shared settle between us in the quiet.

Then, slow and steady, I pulled back.

She whimpered at the loss, body twitching with the fading echo of pleasure. My hand traced her spine—soft, soothing, steady—until her shoulders relaxed beneath my touch.

"You okay?" I asked, voice gentle beneath all the rawness.

She nodded, cheek still pressed to the table, lips barely parted. "I think you melted every bone in my body."

I smiled, soft and low.

Helping her sit up slow, my hands never leaving hers or her sides. She looked dazed—glowing, eyes heavy with that perfect kind of exhaustion—but so damn beautiful.

I kissed her forehead first, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. All soft. All slow.

"Stay still," I murmured. "I’ve got you."

I grabbed a few tissues from the counter, cleaning her up between her legs—gentle, careful, like every inch of her deserved that kind of reverence. She flinched once, sensitive, but didn’t stop me. Instead, she looked at me like she couldn’t believe how soft I was being after how rough I’d just had her.

Once she was clean, I helped her fix her dress—pulled it back down over her thighs, smoothing it out with slow, steady hands. Then I brushed her hair back from her face, fingers tracing her jaw like I was trying to memorize every curve.

"You were incredible," I said quietly, voice low.

She leaned into my touch, a faint smile breaking through. "I feel like I just got struck by lightning. In the best way."

I chuckled, warmth spilling through me. "Then let me ground you."

I kissed her again—this time just lips pressed softly to lips. No fire. Just warmth. Just us.

Then, as my hand trailed down her back one more time—steady, reassuring—

ARIA’s voice slid into my ear like a drop of cold water.

"Emma’s on the move."

My eyes flicked toward the hallway.

"She’s heading to a teacher’s office. Looks terrified."

I didn’t react outwardly—didn’t want to break the moment—but the shift in my awareness was instant. One part of me stayed with Isabella, fully present. But another part?

Already calculating.

Still, I tucked the thought away. For now.

I looked back at Isabella and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.