Bored Gamer in Other Worlds-Chapter 1089 Cart

Makena didn’t have to stay stunned for long.

Clark moved like a storm breaking loose, fast, unstoppable, and utterly consuming.

One moment she was still reeling from the vision of his big fat cock; the next, his massive body had descended over hers, caging her beneath him.

The mattress dipped under his weight, the air driven from her lungs in a soft gasp that turned into a moan the instant his lips crashed back onto hers.

This kiss was different: hungrier, filthier, no trace of the careful restraint he’d shown before.

His tongue swept into her mouth like he owned it, stroking against hers in deep, deliberate thrusts that left her dizzy.

Makena’s hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into hard muscle, and she kissed him back with everything she had, moaning shamelessly into his mouth.

He swallowed every sound like it belonged to him.

His hands were already moving. Impatient fingers tore at her dress.

The fabric ripped cleanly down the front, cool air hitting her overheated skin for only a heartbeat before his palms were on her, hot and possessive.

Her bra followed the blouse, yanked away and flung into the shadows.

Then finally her panties, everything, gone in a frantic blur until there was nothing left between them.

In the span of a single breath, Makena was naked beneath him, trembling, exposed, aching.

Clark pulled back just enough to look at her, and the raw hunger in his eyes stole whatever air she had left.

His gaze raked over her like fire: down the column of her throat, over the flushed swell of her breasts, the tight peaks of her nipples begging for attention, lower still to the soft curve of her stomach and the trembling spread of her thighs.

"Beautiful as sin," he growled, voice rough as gravel.

She couldned look away from him either. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

All she could do was feel the thick, scorching length of his cock sliding along her soaked folds, nudging her clit, dragging through her wetness again and again, never quite pushing inside.

The blunt head caught at her entrance on every slow thrust, teasing, promising, retreating, until her hips were rolling helplessly, trying to pull him in.

He wouldn’t let her.

Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers again, kissing her senseless while his hands began a devastating exploration.

Rough palms glided over her ribs, her waist, the flare of her hips, memorizing every inch.

When his fingers finally closed over her breasts, Makena arched off the bed with a broken cry.

He groaned against her lips, thumbs brushing her nipples, circling, flicking, before he pinched, hard.

Pleasure shot straight to her core like lightning.

She writhed beneath him, thighs clenching around his hips, but he only pressed her deeper into the mattress, pinning her exactly where he wanted her.

His mouth left hers, trailing fire down her jaw, her throat. He bit the sensitive spot just below her ear and she shattered into a whimper.

Then lower, tongue tracing the frantic beat of her pulse before he reached her breast.

He didn’t tease this time.

Clark closed his lips around one stiff, aching nipple and sucked, hard and deep.

Makena’s back bowed clear off the bed, a sharp cry ripping from her throat.

His tongue lashed the peak, teeth scraping just enough to make her sob, while his hand tormented the other breast, rolling the nipple between calloused fingers, tugging until she was shaking.

All the while, his cock kept moving, slow, deliberate strokes through her folds, coating himself in her slick heat, bumping her clit on every pass until her vision blurred at the edges.

She was dripping, embarrassingly wet, the sounds obscene in the quiet room, wet skin sliding against wet skin, her own desperate whimpers, his low, filthy praises growled against her breast.

"You’re soaked," he rasped, switching to the other nipple, giving it the same ruthless attention.

"This pretty pussy’s crying for me, isn’t it? Begging to be filled."

Makena could only nod frantically, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her chest as she rocked against his cock.

She needed more. Needed him inside her now, needed him to stop teasing and take.

"Please," she finally gasped, the word torn out of her on a sob. "Clark, please, I want you,"

He lifted his head, eyes black with lust, lips wet and swollen. His hand left her breast to slide down her body, over her quivering stomach, until his fingers parted her folds.

Clark teased her, deliberately, thumb circling her clit in tight, maddening circles while his cock continued its torturous glide along the outside of her entrance, never quite giving her what she needed.

"Tell me," he demanded, voice dark and dangerous. "Tell me what you want, Makena. Say it."

She was beyond shame, beyond anything but the clawing, aching need inside her.

"You," she cried, hips bucking against his hand. "I want you inside me, please, Clark, fuck me, please,"

A savage sound tore from his chest.

He withdrew his fingers, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while she watched, trembling, utterly wrecked.

Then, finally, mercifully, he notched the thick head of his cock at her entrance.

"Hold on to me," he ordered, voice ragged.

Makena’s arms flew around his neck just as he surged forward, one long, brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her.

The stretch was exquisite, overwhelming. She felt impossibly full, claimed, owned.

Her walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust to his size, and Clark groaned like a dying man, forehead dropping to hers.

"So good," he hissed through clenched teeth. "So tight. So perfect."

He didn’t move for a moment, letting her feel every inch of him, letting her breathe through the intensity.

Then he drew back slowly, almost all the way out, before slamming back in, hard enough to jolt the bed against the wall.

Makena’s second scream was louder than the first.

And then he stopped holding back.

He fucked her like a man possessed, deep, punishing strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside her, his hips snapping with a rhythm that drove her higher and higher.

One hand gripped her thigh, hitching her leg higher around his waist; the other tangled in her hair, holding her steady so he could devour her mouth again as he took her apart.

The room filled with the sounds of their bodies, skin on skin, wet and frantic, her broken moans, his guttural curses.

Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter low in her belly, a white-hot spiral ready to snap.

Clark shifted his angle, grinding against her clit with every thrust, and Makena shattered.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath, her sight, her everything.

She clenched around him, pulsing, sobbing his name as wave after wave tore through her.

He followed her over the edge moments later, burying himself deep and coming with a hoarse shout, hips jerking as he spilled inside her.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the thunder of two hearts beating wildly in the dark.

Clark collapsed over her, careful not to crush her, face buried in her neck.

His lips brushed her sweat-damp skin, soft now, almost reverent.

Makena’s arms tightened around him, holding him close, afraid to let go.

And then Clark moved again.

Pak...

Pak...

Pak...

Each thrust was hard and powerful, his hips snapping forward with a force that made Makena gasp.

The sound of their bodies meeting echoed through the room, sharp and relentless.

All Makena could do was moan—again and again—her voice trembling with each deep, claiming stroke he gave her.

She was still trembling, her body overwhelmed by the fierce clash of sensations.

The lingering sting of losing her virginity pulsed through her, raw and undeniable, yet it was drowned again and again by the sudden, irresistible wave of pleasure that tore a helpless moan from her lips.

Her breath hitched, her fingers curled against the sheets, and her hips quivered beneath him, unable to stop responding to the way he filled her.

Her pussy clung to Clark’s cock with a mind of its own, tightening and pulsing around him as though trying to draw him even deeper.

It milked him greedily, desperately, each convulsion sending another shiver racing up her spine.

Pain and bliss tangled inside her, blurring into something overwhelming—something that made her body arch, her voice break, and her legs wrap around him as though she never wanted him to stop.