Chapter 543: "NO!" Rejection

"That’s my girl." He snapped his hips forward, burying himself so deep the fat head of his cock kissed her cervix and dragged across that swollen bundle inside her in one brutal stroke. Priya’s cry cracked through the room, raw and desperate.

"How long have you been at the firm?"

"Five years—fuck—Peter you godly

motherfucker—"

"What did you start as?"

"Junior associate—oh god right there—fuck me slow and hard."

He obliged. Shifted his angle just enough that every slow, punishing thrust punched straight into her G-spot, thick shaft stretching her slick walls until they fluttered helplessly around him. His fingers on her clit never stopped—two calloused pads rubbing tight, wet circles over the swollen nub, slick with her juices and the cum already leaking out of her.

"And now?"

"Senior—fuck—senior associate—on track for—ah—for partner—"

"That’s huge." He sped up, hips slamming forward, the wet slap of his balls against her soaked thighs echoing off the walls. "You should be proud."

"I am—I—Peter I can’t—"

"Yes you can." His free hand clamped onto her hip, fingers digging bruises into honey-brown skin, yanking her back to meet every thrust so hard her tits bounced wildly under the bunched emerald silk. "You’re doing so well. Telling me about your brilliant career while I fuck this perfect cunt."

"Oh god—"

Bent over the bed like that, dress twisted around her waist, ass high and legs spread, she was completely exposed: pussy lips puffy and glistening, stretched obscenely around his cock, creamy rings of their earlier loads coating the base of his shaft and dripping down her thighs in thick rivulets.

The pressure coiled viciously low in her belly, thighs trembling, knees threatening to give out.

"Peter—I’m—"

"Not yet." He slowed to a torturous grind, rolling his hips so the head of his cock stirred deep inside her, pressing against her front wall until she sobbed in frustration.

"Tell me more. What made you go into corporate law?"

"Are you—fuck—seriously asking me this—"

"Yes." One brutal thrust that punched the air from her lungs. Then back to that maddeningly slow drag. "Answer."

"My parents—oh god—they immigrated with nothing—I wanted to—to prove—"

"That you could succeed." Another punishing thrust, balls slapping her clit. "That you could build something."

"Yes—fuck yes—Peter please—"

"Please what?"

"Let me come—I need—"

"You will." Suddenly he hauled her upright, one iron arm banding across her waist, the other still working her clit mercilessly. Her back slammed against his sweat-slick chest, his cock buried to the hilt from behind.

"Look in the mirror."

Her eyes snapped open. Across the room the full-length mirror reflected pure debauchery: emerald silk bunched like a belt around her tiny waist, heavy tits spilling free, nipples dark and rigid; her thighs slick with cum and arousal; Peter towering behind her, godly carved, hand splayed possessively between her legs while his cock disappeared inside her over and over.

"Watch yourself come apart." His teeth scraped her earlobe. "Watch what I do to you."

He started pounding into her again, hips snapping, fingers flying over her clit. In the mirror she watched her own face go slack with pleasure—mouth open, eyes glazing, tits bouncing with every violent thrust, his darker hand kneading one breast, pinching the nipple until she keened.

"Peter—oh god—Peter—"

"Come."

The orgasm detonated. Her cunt clamped down so hard he groaned, walls spasming in long, greedy pulses, gushing around his cock and soaking his balls. Her knees buckled; only his arm kept her upright as he fucked her through it, drawing the climax out until tears streaked her cheeks.

"Too much—"

"One more."

"I can’t—"

"You can." He shifted his angle, driving even deeper, fingers pressing harder, faster on her oversensitive clit.

Impossibly, another wave rose—sharper, meaner. Her nails clawed at the arm locked around her waist, head falling back against his shoulder, body shaking like a live wire.

"That’s it." His voice was pure sin in her ear. "Give me another one."

"Peter—"

"Now."

The second orgasm ripped her apart—harder, louder, her pussy convulsing so violently she felt him swell inside her. He slammed deep one last time, teeth sinking into her shoulder as he came with a guttural growl, pumping thick, hot ropes into her until it leaked out around his cock and ran down her legs in filthy streams.

They stayed locked together, trembling, his arms the only thing keeping her vertical.

Eventually he turned her gently, pulled her sweat-soaked body against his chest, and carried her trembling frame to the bed. He sat, dragging her into his lap so she straddled him again, his half-hard cock still inside her, cum and slick coating both their thighs.

His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking flushed cheeks, bronze eyes locked on hers.

"You see, I’m good with sex." His voice was quiet. Serious. One hand traced down her collarbone, slow, deliberate. "Really fucking good. And you’re beautiful. I’d enjoy just fucking you. No strings attached."

She went completely still. Breath caught.

His hand continued down. Between her breasts. Over her ribs. To her waist. Resting there, palm hot against sweat-slick skin.

"But I’m not a fling person."

His other hand cupped the back of her neck, firm, forcing her to hold his gaze. "And I never—never—let a woman I fuck walk away."

"What are you saying?"

His hand on her waist slid to her hip. Thumb tracing slow circles on her hip bone. She shivered.

"You know no one else will make you feel like this." His thumb pressed into that sensitive spot, watched her gasp. "No one can give you what I give."

"That’s not—ah—fair—"

"It’s the truth."

His fingers ghosted over her stomach. Between her breasts. Along her collarbone. Down her arm. Never quite touching where her clit still throbbed. "Your body already

knows

it. Already responding to just my touch."

She grabbed his hand, stopped it. "You’re right." Her voice shook. "There’s no way I’m letting another man touch me after you. It’s like—like you bewitched me or something."

"I did."

She laughed. Broken. Slightly hysterical. "How? How is that even possible?"

He cupped her face again with both hands. Looked into her eyes. And she saw it—whatever supernatural golden hues flared in his irises. Raw power. Impossible truth.

She gasped. Tried to look away after three seconds. Too intense. Too much. Too real.

He held her steady.

"So." He leaned closer. Forehead against hers. Breathing the same air. "Do you want to be my woman? Officially?"

She blinked. Then laughed—a real laugh this time despite everything. "You’re asking me this after—after everything?"

"Yes."

"That’s insane."

"Is it a yes?"

"I didn’t expect this." She touched his face. Traced his jaw. That perfect bone structure no man can ever have. "I thought you’d fuck me and then—"

"Forget you?" He finished for her. "Keep you as just sex? No commitment?"

She nodded. Unable to speak.

He pulled her tighter against him. Her chest pressed to his. Hearts beating together. "Never happening."

She was quiet. Thinking. Processing. Her hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift under her palms.

Then she kissed him. Hard. Desperate. Pouring everything into it—her fear, her want, her confusion, her hope.

When they pulled apart, both breathing hard, he smiled. "Yes?"

She shook her head.

His smile faltered. "No?"

For the first time since he’d become whatever he was, a woman had just looked him in the eye and said no.