She felt him shift.

His seed was still warm inside her anal, settling deep, and she felt the slow withdrawal begin — not rushed, not careless, the same deliberate patience he had used on the entry, pulling back through her clenched ring in one long, unhurried drag.

The exit burned.

A clean, specific burn that ran from her tailbone forward and left her feeling hollowed in a way that her body immediately and traitorously registered as a loss.

She said nothing about that.

He was lying over her now.

His chest against her back, his weight distributed along the full length of her body, his arms bracketing her shoulders on either side, his face near her temple.

His cock — already hardening again, because apparently he had no concept of limitation — rested against her ass in the space between her cheeks, warm and present and making its intentions clear without any announcement.

She felt the cockhead press against her anal again.

"No." The word came out immediately. Flat. "Absolutely not. ’Again’."

He pressed fractionally.

"But I don’t want you." Her voice cracked on it. Not from the pressure. From the sentence itself, from the specific effort it took to say out loud while his body covered hers completely. "’Just leave me’. Please."

A pause.

His hand moved from the seat beside her shoulder.

Slid forward.

Both palms finding her breasts from above and below simultaneously, cupping the full, heavy weight of them from underneath and pressing inward from the top, kneading slowly.

Like handles.

Like something he had decided belonged to him and was checking the inventory.

"Why," he said against her temple, "do you want me to leave?"

Thalia’s jaw tightened.

She wanted to yell at him.

She had a complete yell prepared — assembled over the last twenty minutes, layered with specific grievances and historical evidence and at least three very good points — and she opened her mouth to deliver it.

What came out instead was:

"You’re a pervert."

A pause.

"You sleep with every woman you meet." Her voice was controlled but thin at the edges. "You don’t care. You never cared. You are a ’playboy’ and you have been a playboy since before I knew what that word meant and you are still—"

She stopped herself.

Swallowed.

"You just—don’t care."

Silence.

His hands kept their rhythm on her breasts.

Slow, unhurried kneading, the pregnancy weight of them yielding between his palms on every press.

"Just that much?"

His voice carried something between amusement and genuine interest.

"That’s the whole list?"

"What do you mean, ’just that much’—"

"Isn’t it," he said simply, "exactly that particular reason you slept with me in the first place?"

She went still.

The kneading continued.

Her nipples were hard against his palms, pressing outward into the skin of his hands, giving themselves away the way everything about her had been giving itself away all morning.

She looked at him over her shoulder.

He was close.

Six inches between her face and his. His eyes level with hers. His expression carrying the flat, unhurried quality that she had spent years trying to decode and had arrived at no clean conclusion about.

"So isn’t that," he said quietly, "the exact reason I deflowered you in the first place."

"I am not—" Her voice went sharp. "An ’object’. You don’t ’deflower’ a person like it’s something you do ’to’ them—it’s not—that’s not what happened—"

"Don’t you like it?"

The question arrived mild and immediate, directly across her protest.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

Very close.

His thumbs rolling across both nipples in slow, simultaneous circles.

She held the look for exactly three seconds.

Then her eyes dropped.

"My ass hurts," she said.

He was quiet for a moment.

Then the chuckle came — low, clean, with no cruelty in it.

His cock, which had been pressing against her anal with the patience of something that had all the time in the world, shifted.

Moved.

Down.

The cockhead dragged from her anal downward and pressed instead against her cunt entrance — warm, wet, gaping and ready from everything the morning had already deposited there — and rested against her in a way that was not yet entering but was making its intention perfectly clear.

"I’ll park it somewhere else," he said.

His voice was very quiet.

"Damn you." 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

She breathed the words out.

Not a curse. Just the specific exhale of a woman surrendering to something she has decided to stop arguing with.

He pressed forward.

Slowly.

His cock entering her cunt from behind in one long, continuous glide that seated him fully with a warmth and ease that her body made absolutely no attempt to resist, her walls closing around him immediately, pulling him in, the pregnancy-swollen tightness of her cunt adjusting around the full length of him with a slick, thorough clench that was nothing like resistance.

"AAHHH~!! Hngh~!! Oough~!!"

He pressed his lips to her forehead.

Light. Unhurried.

The gesture of a man who has no particular interest in dramatic declarations but is making one anyway in the only register he uses.

"You like it?"

She breathed.

In.

Out.

Felt his cock seated fully inside her cunt for the first time today, the anal still warm and aching, the double record of the morning still settling in her body, his seed still present somewhere deep.

Her eyes closed.

"I hate you."

He chuckled.

One low, short sound.

"I’ll take that as yes."

And she turned.

Not a dramatic turn. Just the small, tired rotation of a woman who has run out of the will to be facing the wrong direction — her shoulder moving first, then her hip, his cock adjusting inside her as her body rotated until she was facing him, lying on her back in the back seat of the car with both legs spreading around his hips and his cock still buried inside her with no interruption.

The logistics of this were improbable.

Her body managed them without being asked.

She kissed him.

She did it first.

She reached up and pulled his face down with both hands — the seatbelt had come loose sometime in the repositioning, her wrists finally free — and pressed her lips against his with the specific, compressed urgency of someone who has been making a different argument with their mouth for the last hour and has decided to stop.

He kissed her back.

Not surprised. Not triumphant.

Just present.

His lips moving against hers with the ease of a man who had been waiting for this at a reasonable distance and was in no particular hurry now that it had arrived.

His hips began to move.

Slow at first.

Long, deep strokes that drew back to the edge and drove forward to the absolute base, his pubic bone pressing flat against her cunt on every inward push, his cock pressing through her walls to the point where her cervix met the tip and the pressure registered somewhere beyond sensation.

She moaned into his mouth.

Broken, muffled, both hands gripping the back of his head, her fingers in his hair pulling him closer while her hips moved to meet him.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"Mmph~!! Nngh~!! Oungh~!!"

His hands spread her legs wider.