Allisonn

“Take a few more, please,” you plead as Matt holds your phone in his hand, taking pictures at various angles. You wanted to post the best birthday photoshoot on your Instagram, so of course you had to get Matt to help with taking them. You trained him pretty well, so you knew you could trust him. Matt chuckles, shaking his head as he watches you sit up in the tub and fix your party hat. The vibe you were going for was something unique, which is why you were currently sitting in a tub filled with balloons, which as first matt thought was silly. He sighs and slips your phone into his back pocket, helping you step out of the tub.

“Should we take some outside?” you question, looking up at him with a grin. Matt only shook his head and watched you practically skip outside to take more photos; he couldn’t help the smile forming on his fac An hour later, you were in bed scrolling through the pictures Matt took of you. “What do you think of these?” you ask, trying to pick out the best ones to post. Matt looks up from his own phone, raising an eyebrow.

“Baby, you’ve been looking at the same four pictures forever,” he chuckles. He leans forward, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes meeting yours. “I just want to post the best ones,” you whisper, feeling the heat of his body radiating onto you. He closes the distance between you, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. His hands gently push you onto the bed as he hovers over you; a moan slips from your mouth, giving him access to wrap his lips around your tongue. Your whole body tingles as his lips travel down your neck, sucking marks into your skin. His teeth graze your sensitive flesh.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” he whispers, watching as you open your mouth; he spits inside your mouth.

You feel your face heat up before you swallow his spit. His hands travel down your body, slipping under your shirt, his thumbs grazing your nipples.

“Fuck…” you whimper, your body arching into his touch. He flips you over so you're straddling him as his hands keep your hips steady, grinding you against his growing bulge. “That’s it, keep going, angel,” he praises you as you kiss his neck. You run your thumb over his bottom lip, looking at his teeth. Matt knew what you were going to ask next; you’ve been obsessed with his teeth recently.

“Go ahead, baby,” he smiles. You run your tongue over his top row of teeth, feeling him press you harder down onto him. Matt lowers you onto his length, feeling you walls wrap around him; his jaw clenches as you sink on him.

His hands cup your boobs as you begin to move, your moans filling the room. “Happy birthday, baby,” he grins fucking himself up into you. You gasp, the air almost leaving your lungs. Matt feels you clench around him, his fingers moving to rub your clit as you chase your release.

The city hums like a heartbeat, neon signs flickering against wet pavement, the air thick with the scent of gasoline and bad decisions. You shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be waiting, shouldn’t be looking for something you already know you shouldn’t want.

But then headlights slice through the night, sleek and low, purring like a predator hunting in the dark. And just like that, he’s here.

The all blacked out Corvette C7 ZR1 slows, tires rolling to a smooth stop just beside you. The tinted window lowers, and there he is- one hand draped lazily over the wheel, the other tapping against the gear shift. He doesn’t need to say anything, doesn’t need to ask. The invitation is already there, written in the smirk on his lips and the way his eyes drink you in like you’re something to be devoured.

He tilts his head, voice low and teasing. “You getting in? Or just gonna stand there looking pretty all night?”

You should say no. But you don’t. You never do.

You reach for the handle, slide into the seat, and let the door click shut behind you.

Because some addictions don’t start with a choice. They start with a pretty boy, a sports car, and the taste of danger on your tongue.

The ZR1’s door shuts with a quiet, final click, sealing you inside with him. The scent of his cologne fills your lungs as Chris shifts into gear, pulling away from the curb like he’s got nowhere to be and all the time in the world to get there.

You lean back into the seat, the city blurring past in streaks of neon and shadow. The hum of the engine vibrates beneath you, low and smooth, matching the way Chris drives-effortless, confident, like the world bends around him instead of the other way around.

It’s a fucking terrible idea and you know it. It’s all you hear about.

Your father never shuts up about Chris Sturniolo.

At the dinner table, in the car, every time he takes a call, it’s the same thing. “We’re closing in on him,” or “We’re gonna have that punk behind bars soon,” or “I swear to God, if I ever catch you anywhere near him-”

You nod along, push food around on your plate, pretend not to know exactly where Chris is, what he’s doing, who he’s selling to.

Pretend you weren’t in his car getting your brains fucked out last night.

You don’t even know when it started. You just know it never really ended. It was supposed to be a mistake, one night, one bad decision you could walk away from. But then he’d called, or maybe you had, and the cycle started all over again.

His car, an expensive hotel suite, his place- when he was feeling reckless. It didn’t matter where. It didn’t matter how many times you swore it would be the last.

Chris was a bad habit you had no intention of breaking.

“Y’know how fucking insane this is, right?”

Chris shifts gears, the ZR1 humming beneath him as the city fades into the distance. His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something sharp behind it. “Daddy’s little girl, feeding inside intel to the guy he’s been trying to put away for years?”

You don’t answer right away, letting the wind whip through your hair as you roll the window down. The rush of warm night air makes it easier to breathe, easier to ignore the way your chest tightens when he looks at you like that- like you’re something dangerous too.

“Maybe I just like watching him lose,” you say finally, turning to face him.

Chris huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nah,” he mutters, fingers tapping against the wheel. “You just like the way it feels to get away with it.”

He’s not wrong.

You had spent your whole life being careful, being good, living under a microscope, knowing one wrong move could shatter everything your father built. And then Chris happened. Chris, with his fast sport car and faster hands, with his sharp smirk and the kind of confidence that made him impossible to ignore.

Chris, who shouldn’t trust you.

Chris, who does anyway.

The roads get quieter the further you go. He doesn’t ask where you want to go- he never does. He just drives, one hand on the wheel, the other stretched lazily across the center console and on your thigh.

You should be scared of what would happen if anyone ever found out.

If your father ever found out.

What it would do to your family if the word ever got out that you were helping him.

But fear isn’t enough to stop you.

“You’re clear for the next two days,” you say, voice casual, like you’re talking about the weather and not actively betraying your own blood. “He’s got a meeting at Faneuil Hall with the Mayor tomorrow, then a conference in Philly after that.”

Chris whistles low, shaking his head. “You make this shit too easy, ma.”

That nickname. He started using it months ago, first as a joke- mocking the way you tried to boss him around, always telling him this was a mistake. But then it stuck, and now it’s something else entirely.

Something he only ever says when you’re alone like this.

You ignore the way your stomach flips at the sound of it. “You’re welcome,” you mutter.

Chris glances at you, something unreadable in his expression. “You ever think about what happens if this blows up in your face?”

You exhale, turning your gaze toward the dark stretch of road ahead. “Every day.”

The car pulls into an empty parking lot on the outskirts of town, the glow of the city nothing but a dull flicker in the distance. Chris kills the engine, the sudden silence pressing in around you.

He shifts in his seat, looking at you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“You really don’t give a fuck anymore, do you?”

You don’t know how to answer that. Maybe because you do, and maybe because you never did.

Chris studies you for another second before shaking his head, muttering, “Come here, mama” as he grabs the neckline of your strapless dress and pulls you into him.

His lips crash against yours, hot and unforgiving, all teeth and tongue and hands that know exactly where to go. You barely have time to breathe before he’s shifting, pulling you onto his lap, fingers gripping your hips as he presses you down against him.

You shouldn’t be doing this here.

Out in the open, where anyone could see, where anyone could put two and two together.

But when Chris kisses you like this, when he moves against you like that, logic doesn’t stand a fucking chance.

His hands are everywhere- tangling in your hair, gripping your hips, sliding up the curve of your waist like he already knows exactly how this ends. The ZR1’s leather seat creaks beneath you as you shift, knees pressing into the center console, your breath coming fast against his lips.

Chris exhales a low, shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours for half a second before his fingers tighten around your thighs. “You’re fucking insane, ma,” he mutters, but his voice is rough, hungry, betraying how little he actually wants you to stop.

Your fingers twist into his hoodie, yanking him closer until your lips crash together again. “You gonna do something about it?”

Chris groans against your mouth, one hand sliding up the back of your neck, tilting your head just right so he can kiss you deeper, hungrier, like he’s trying to swallow you whole. His other hand grips your thigh, fingertips pressing into bare skin where your dress has ridden up.

The second Chris leans the seat back, his hands gripping your hips as he shifts beneath you, that little voice of reason disappears into static.

Your legs straddle his lap, the leather beneath your knees warm from the heat of your bodies. Chris tilts his head back against the seat, looking up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes, his breath coming slow and heavy, lips swollen from kissing you like he had something to prove.

His hoodie rides up as your fingers trace along his stomach, feeling the way his abs tighten under your touch. You drag your nails lightly over his happy trail, making him suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, ma,” he mutters, gripping your hips tighter. “You trying to kill me?”

You smirk, rolling your hips against him just to watch his jaw clench, his head falling back against the seat. “Just having a little fun.”

Chris’ hands move to your ass, pulling you closer, making you gasp as he grinds up against you in response. “That right?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s nothing playful about the way his grip tightens, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, looks like you’re the one losing your mind right now.”

You bite your lip, hands gripping his hoodie as he pushes up against you again, his movements slow, deliberate. Your breath catches, your nails digging into his shoulders as heat pools low in your stomach.

He watches you, eyes dark, lips curving into something wicked. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

You don’t answer -can’t- because he already knows. He already feels it in the way you move against him, in the way your breath hitches when he squeezes your hips, in the way you pull him back into another messy, desperate kiss.

Chris groans against your mouth, his hands fumbling with his belt, undoing the buckle with a quick flick of his wrist. You suck in a sharp breath as he tugs your dress higher, his fingers slipping beneath the hem, dragging slow, teasing lines up your thighs.

The ZR1 is too hot now, the windows fogging up, the air thick with the scent of leather and sweat and something darker, something that smells like sin and gasoline and everything that keeps pulling you back to him, over and over, no matter how much you swear it’ll be the last time.

Chris leans back, watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk. “Are you even ready for me yet?” he asks, voice low, rough.

You nod, breathless. “Yes. Stop talking.”

His chuckle is dark, full of something dangerous. “Just askin’ damn. Bossy as fuck, ma.” But he doesn’t complain when you roll your hips against him again, making his breath stutter.

His hands slide down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing himself up against you so hard it makes your whole body tense. You gasp, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. Chris just grins, dragging his lips along the side of your neck, kissing and biting down until you shiver.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans, gripping your ass and guiding you over him, his movements slow, torturous, teasing.

Your fingers dig into his hoodie again, your body pressing flush against his as he starts moving faster, his breathing ragged, his grip tightening like he’s trying to keep himself from unraveling too soon.

“Shit, mama. Stop grinding on me, I’ll cum way too soon. Let me at least get inside ya.” He groans into your mouth. “Take your clothes off.”

Your breath catches, fingers trembling as you reach for the hem of your dress, your mind a blur of heat and need. Chris watches you, hooded eyes dark with something primal, something dangerous, something that makes your pulse race.

You tug the fabric up, slow enough to tease, fast enough to keep him on edge. His hands are on you the second the dress is off, gripping your waist, sliding up the bare skin of your back like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice thick with hunger. “Look at you.”

You barely have time to react before he’s tugging his hoodie over his head, his hair falling messily over his forehead. The sight of him- flushed, breathless, eyes locked on you like you’re the only thing that matters sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your hands find his chest, nails dragging over firm muscle, feeling the way his breath stutters under your touch. He grabs your wrists before you can tease him further, pinning them against the seat as he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours.

“You’re so fucking addictive,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl against your skin. “You know that?”

You smirk, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his. “And what does that make you?”

Chris’ grip tightens, his fingers pressing into your wrists. “An addict.”

And then he’s kissing you again- hard, desperate, like he needs you as much as you need him. His hands move fast, unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them down just enough. You shift against him, feeling the heat, the pressure, the sheer intensity of everything that’s been building between you.

His breath is ragged, his hands everywhere- gripping, exploring, claiming. You arch against him, nails raking down his back as he groans against your mouth. His fingers trace slow, teasing circles up your thighs, making you shiver.

“You ready, ma?” His voice is rough, barely holding on.

Your response is immediate. “Chris-”

“Say it.” His fingers tighten against your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding, your body aching. “I want you. Now.”

That’s all it takes.

Chris moves like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting for this moment for longer than he’d ever admit even though he saw you last night. His hands grip your hips, guiding you down, slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him, every heartbeat, every vein, every shaky breath.

Your head tilts back, a gasp slipping past your lips as your nails dig into his shoulders. Chris curses under his breath, his hands steadying you, his lips parting as he watches you fall apart.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his head dropping against your chest. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body moving with his, slow, deep, intoxicating. The ZR1 rocks beneath you, the leather creaking, the windows fogging up even more. Everything outside the car ceases to exist-just heat, pressure, pleasure.

Chris’s dick was unbelievably thick and impossibly long. Even after a year of secret hookups you still weren’t used to it.

He knew all your sweet spots, where to thrust, what to say, when to speed up, slow down, etc. So it was no surprise when only after 5 minutes you were already shaking around him.

“Too much?” he asks, his voice low, almost teasing, though his eyes are full of concern.

You shake your head, your lips parting in a breathless moan as he thrusts deeper. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Chris grins, his lips curving into something wicked. “That’s my girl.”

His movements pick up again, faster now, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you down to meet him, his breathing ragged and uneven. You cling to him, your body a trembling mess, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps driving you higher, pushing you past the edge of what you thought you could handle.

Your climax builds faster, harder, your body responding to his touch even as it feels like you might fall apart. Chris feels it, too, his groans growing louder, more desperate, as his pace becomes erratic.

Chris curses under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he feels the way you clench around him. His breath is ragged, lips brushing against your neck, his hands keeping you steady as you ride the high that crashes through you.

Your whole body shudders, nails biting into his shoulders as waves of pleasure ripple through you. It’s too much- too intense- your mind going blank, consumed by the heat of him, the feel of him, the way he moves inside you like he owns every part of you.

But Chris doesn’t stop.

Even as your body trembles, even as you gasp and whimper against his mouth, he keeps going- gripping your hips tighter, driving into you with slow, deep strokes that make your oversensitive nerves scream.

You whine, body arching as he drags you through the aftershocks, refusing to let you come down. “Chris-” Your voice is breathless, pleading, your hands gripping his arms, nails leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his skin.

His jaw clenches, his movements relentless. “Nah, ma,” he growls, voice rough with need. “I’m not done with you.”

You whimper as another shiver rolls through you, your body caught in the overwhelming pleasure, caught between wanting to pull away and needing more- needing him to ruin you completely.

Chris tilts his head back, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, watching you with that same hungry, possessive look that sends another spark of heat straight through your core. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his fingers pressing bruises into your hips as he thrusts deeper, harder. “So fucking perfect.”

You can barely process his words, too caught up in the way he feels, the way he keeps pushing you higher and higher, dragging you back into another climax before you’ve even recovered from the first.

Your nails dig into his back, your head tilting forward to rest against his shoulder. “Chris,” you breathe, voice shaking. “I can’t- ”

“Yes, you can,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice thick with desire. “You’re gonna take it for me, baby. Gonna let me fuck you just like this until I say we’re done.”

Your whole body clenches at his words, pleasure tightening in your stomach again, faster, harder, more intense than before. Chris groans, feeling the way you react to him, the way your body gives in even when your mind is spinning.

“Jesus,” he mutters, voice strained. “You feel that? Feel how tight you get when I talk to you like this?”

You can only moan in response, your body rocking against his, pleasure blinding, consuming. His hands slide up your back, gripping your hair, tugging your head back so he can capture your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss.

He’s close- you can feel it in the way his muscles tense beneath your hands, in the way his rhythm stutters, in the way he bites down on your bottom lip, groaning deep in his chest.

But he doesn’t let up. Even when your second orgasm crashes over you, even when you cry out, shaking, gasping against his mouth- Chris keeps going. His hands hold you down, keeping you in place as he thrusts into you with slow, deliberate precision, dragging every ounce of pleasure from you until you’re completely undone.

Tears prick your eyes from the overstimulation, your body trembling, your breathing ragged. “Chris- fuck.” you whimper, legs shaking as he continues moving inside you.

His breath is hot against your skin, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, holding you steady as he groans, voice thick with pleasure. “One more,” he mutters, his lips dragging along your jaw, kissing, biting, teasing. “Give me one more, ma.”

You shake your head, barely coherent, barely holding on. “I- Chris, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, thrusting up into you harder, deeper, making you sob from how good it feels, from how intense it all is. “You’re mine, baby. You take what I give you.”

Your body betrays you, another wave of pleasure building, your breath hitching, your nails clawing at his shoulders. Chris feels it, feels the way you’re right there on the edge again, and he doesn’t stop- doesn’t slow down.

He grins against your skin, dragging his teeth along your throat. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice dark, wicked. “Cum for me again, ma. Let me feel you.”

And when you do- when the pleasure crashes over you again, stronger than before, making your whole body arch and tighten and tremble- Chris groans, finally losing himself, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep, riding out his own release with a sharp, shuddering breath.

Your body goes limp against him, utterly spent, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Chris’ hands are still on you, gripping your waist, his breathing ragged as he presses soft kisses along your shoulder.

You feel like you’re floating, your mind foggy, body boneless. Chris shifts beneath you, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You good, baby?” he murmurs, voice softer now, breath warm against your temple.

You let out a shaky, breathless laugh, nuzzling into his neck. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Chris chuckles, his hands sliding up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I was going for.”

You groan, playfully smacking his chest. “Asshole.”

His lips graze your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Nah,” he murmurs. “Just a man who can’t get enough of you.”

Chris exhales a slow, satisfied breath, his fingers brushing up and down your spine as he holds you against him. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks, every nerve ending oversensitized, but he hasn’t let go- not even close.

Just when you think he might finally give you a break, his hands slide down to your thighs, gripping you tight. Then, with a sharp, effortless movement, he flips you over, your back hitting the warm leather of the seat before you can even catch your breath.

A gasp leaves your lips as he spreads your legs wider, settling between them. His dark eyes roam over you, taking in the way you’re still pulsing, still twitching, still completely wrecked- but he’s not satisfied yet.

Chris drags his thumb through the mess between your thighs, groaning low in his throat as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you, smearing onto the expensive leather beneath you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost in awe. He watches as more of his cum drips out, pooling between your thighs, making an absolute mess of his sports car. But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even acknowledge it.

If anything, it makes him harder.

He spreads you open wider, licking his lips at the sight. “Look at you, baby,” he murmurs, running his fingers through the wetness, spreading it around, making you shudder. “So messy. So fucking full of me.”

Your breath hitches, your body twitching as he circles your clit lazily, teasing, barely applying pressure. You’re sensitive -too sensitive- but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give a fuck.

“Baby,” you whimper, shifting beneath him, your body already burning up again.

He smirks, leaning down to press a soft, almost mocking kiss against your inner thigh. “What? Thought we were done?”

Your legs shake as he drags his fingers through your soaked folds, smearing his release along your skin like he wants to mark you, claim you. “I- Chris, I just-”

“You can take more,” he interrupts, voice deep, rough. His fingers press against your clit again, and your whole body jerks. “You will take more.”

Before you can protest, he slides back inside you in one smooth, slow thrust, stretching you all over again, making your mouth fall open in a silent moan. Your body is still so sensitive, still trying to recover- but he feels too good. Too thick, too deep, too overwhelming.

Chris groans at the feeling of your tight, overstimulated walls squeezing him. “Shit, ma,” he grits out, gripping your thighs as he pushes in even deeper. “You’re still fuckin’ grippin’ me.”

Your head falls back against the seat, your hands gripping the sides for any kind of stability, your legs twitching as he starts moving again, setting a slow, deep rhythm that makes you see stars.

Chris watches your face, eyes locked onto yours, reveling in every gasp, every moan, every tremble. “Yeah, that’s it,” he mutters, picking up his pace, his hips snapping forward in slow, deliberate thrusts. “Give it to me.”

The leather beneath you is soaked now- his cum, your slick, the heat of your bodies turning the expensive seat into an absolute mess.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groans, dragging his thumb down to your clit, circling it in slow, lazy strokes. “Look at this mess you’re making, baby.”

You try to protest, try to tell him it’s too much, that you’re too sensitive, but he just smirks, pushing you further, forcing you to take every single stroke, every touch, every ounce of pleasure he gives you.

He presses his thumb down just right, rubbing firm, tight circles against your clit while he pounds into you harder, deeper, more relentless.

Your body jerks violently, your back arching off the seat, your hands flying to his arms, gripping onto him like a lifeline.

Chris grins, feeling the way your whole body locks up. “That’s it, mama,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss along your jaw, his voice pure sin. “Let go for me.”

A sharp cry rips from your throat as your body completely loses control. The pleasure is blinding, unstoppable, crashing over you like a tsunami. You can’t hold back, can’t stop the way your body shakes, the way your legs tremble, the way the overwhelming release spills out of you in hot, uncontrollable waves.

Chris growls low in his throat as you squirt all over him, all over the seat, soaking everything in your release. “Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, staring at the way you gush for him, completely wrecked beneath him. “You’re fucking unreal.”

Your whole body is still spasming, your vision hazy, your mind lost in pure, unfiltered pleasure. But Chris doesn’t stop- not yet.

He thrusts through your high, dragging it out, making you ride every last drop of pleasure, making sure you feel everything. His grip on your hips tightens, his own release creeping up again, but he’s holding back- holding back just long enough to watch you come apart for him one last time.

Your overstimulated body twitches beneath him, your breath coming in short, broken gasps, but he just smirks, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper, relentless.

“One more, ma,” he mutters, voice rough, desperate. “Give me one more.”

And the way he’s moving, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s speaking to you- you can’t deny him. You can’t fight it.

So you give in.

Your body seizes up again, another sharp cry spilling from your lips as a second wave of uncontrollable pleasure slams into you, even stronger than before. You don’t even know how it’s possible, don’t even know how he’s dragged you into another climax so fast, but it hits you hard, overwhelming, your release gushing out all over again, completely drenching him, the seat, everything.

Chris groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he finally lets go, his body tensing, his grip bruising as he spills deep inside you again, filling you up until you can feel it dripping out, mixing with everything else.

His breath is ragged, his body shaking slightly as he finally slows, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips brushing against your cheek.

“You’re a fucking dream,” he mutters, voice hoarse, wrecked.

You don’t even have the energy to respond, your whole body feeling like liquid, your legs completely useless beneath him.

Chris pulls back slightly, glancing down at the absolute mess between your thighs, the way his cum is still leaking out of you, the way the seat is utterly ruined beneath you.

And yet he only grins.

“You just fucked up my car, mama.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Shut up.”

Chris chuckles, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice still dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll clean you up first.”

He exhales, catching his breath before finally shifting off you, reaching toward the center console. “Let me clean you up, mama,” he mutters, flipping it open with one hand.

But instead of a rag, the compartment is stacked with guns, cash, and small baggies of powder. Your breath catches, eyes widening as he stares at it for a split second before muttering, “Ah, shit. Wrong one.”

You blink. “Chris-”

He slams it shut like it’s nothing, flipping open the smaller compartment beside it. This time, he pulls out a clean rag, smirking as he shifts his attention back to you.

“You keep rags in here for all your bitches that you fuck in here?” you deadpan, arms crossing despite the fact that you’re still sprawled out on the ruined leather seat, completely wrecked.

Chris scoffs, shaking his head as he leans over, running the soft fabric between your thighs, cleaning you up with slow, careful strokes. “Nah, ma. You know it’s just you.”

His voice is low, smooth, and for some reason, you actually believe him. His hands are gentle, despite everything, despite the fact that just minutes ago he was gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

The distant wail of sirens cuts through the night.

Your whole body tenses as Chris’ head snaps to the side, eyes locking onto the reflection of flashing red and blue lights in the ZR1’s side mirror.

“Fuck.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

Before you can even process what’s happening, he scoops you up, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion, pressing you against his chest as he mutters, “Head down.”

“What-”

“I said head down.” His voice is sharp, urgent. One hand presses against the back of your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck, while the other slams the car into gear.

Tires screech against pavement as the ZR1 peels out, leaving a thick cloud of rubber and smoke in its wake.

The police lights flash brighter behind you, the sirens growing louder, closer.

“Chris-”

“Hold on, baby.” His grip tightens around you, his foot slamming against the gas pedal, the speedometer climbing rapidly.

Your breath stutters, your heart racing with the sheer intensity of it all. The world blurs past in streaks of neon and streetlights, the engine roaring beneath you, vibrating through your bones.

The cop car is right on your tail.

Chris takes a sharp turn, drifting the ZR1 onto a side street so hard you swear the tires nearly lift off the ground. The force of it presses you further into his chest, his arms locking around you like a vice as he maneuvers the car with pure, reckless precision.

Your fingers dig into his hoodie, clutching onto him for dear life.

And then you feel it.

Hard. Pressing against you.

Your breath catches. “Baby…”

He growls under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Don’t say a fucking word, ma.”

The adrenaline. The danger. The chase. It’s getting to him.

Turning him on.

His cock is pressed right against your inner thigh, growing harder with every near miss, every sharp turn, every time the cop car nearly clips the back of the ZR1.

“You’re fucking insane,” you whisper, shifting slightly, feeling just how thick he’s getting beneath you.

Chris lets out a sharp breath, his jaw clenching. “You feel what you do to me, ma?” His voice is hoarse, low, filled with something dark and hungry.

The ZR1 barrels down an empty stretch of road, the engine screaming as Chris shifts gears, pushing the car even faster, even harder.

The cop is still behind you, but barely- struggling to keep up, to match the speed, the agility, the pure recklessness Chris is driving with.

He takes another sharp turn, the back tires sliding for a split second before gripping the asphalt again. Your whole body shifts against him, pressing down onto his lap, making him groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his grip on your waist tightening. “You keep moving like that, I swear to God-”

A bullet of adrenaline shoots through you, a twisted part of you relishing the chaos, the danger, the way he’s completely losing control underneath you and around you.

But then you see it.

A dark alley up ahead.

“Chris, there-”

He doesn’t hesitate.

The ZR1 swerves hard, shooting into the alley, the back tires skidding against loose gravel before he kills the lights and the engine in one swift motion.

The car goes dead silent.

Your breathing is ragged, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can feel it against his chest.

The cop car speeds past the alley, completely missing you.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

Silence stretches between you, thick and electric, both of you still caught in the thrall of what just happened.

Chris’ hands are still gripping your waist, his chest rising and falling beneath you, his cock still rock hard against your thigh.

You swallow, shifting just slightly, just enough to feel him pulse beneath you.

Chris exhales sharply, his fingers twitching against your skin.

And then, in the darkness of the alley, in the suffocating silence, he mutters-

“We’re not fucking done.”

You barely have time to register the shift before his hands grip your waist, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. He reaches for the door, pushing it open, the cool night air rushing in as he hauls you up with him.

“Chris-” your voice is barely a whisper, weak from everything he’s already put you through.

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t need to.

Because the second he stands, you’re bent over the leather seat, half of your body still inside the car, ass up, legs shaking, completely at his mercy.

Chris steps behind you, his presence looming, his cock still painfully hard, pressing against your drenched entrance. His fingers dig into your hips, his thumbs pressing bruises into your skin as he takes in the sight of you- wrecked, twitching, dripping onto the floor of his expensive-ass car.

“You good, ma?” he mutters, his voice deep, low, dangerous.

You nod weakly, gripping the edge of the seat like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. “Y-yeah.”

Chris chuckles darkly. “Lying ass.”

And then he thrusts in.

Deep. Hard. Relentless.

Your whole body jerks forward, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as the sudden stretch sends a shockwave through your nerves.

Chris grunts, gripping your hips tighter, his thumbs pressing into the dimples of your lower back. “Shit, ma,” he mutters, his voice strained. “Still so fucking tight.”

You try to brace yourself, try to push back against him, but your legs are already trembling, already weak from everything before.

Chris notices immediately.

He grins, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back slightly, just enough to whisper against your ear- “You can’t even hold yourself up, can you?”

A pathetic whimper escapes you, your arms shaking against the leather seat.

Chris lets out a dark, satisfied laugh. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

His pace is relentless, each thrust slamming into you harder, deeper, more punishing, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

Your legs start to shake violently, your whole body trembling under the sheer force of him.

Chris notices and instead of slowing down, he grips your waist tighter, holding you up, keeping you in place, forcing you to take every last inch.

“C’mon, baby,” he mutters, his voice strained, desperate. “I know you got another one in you.”

You whimper, your fingers slipping against the leather as your entire body tenses, your breath catching. “fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Chris smirks. He feels it. Feels you tightening around him. Feels the way you’re right there.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he whispers, “Cum for me.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

Your legs completely give out, your body collapsing against the seat as a broken, shattered moan rips from your throat.

Chris has to physically hold you up, his strong arms keeping you steady as your orgasm tears through you, shaking you to your core.

But he doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t give you a second to breathe.

His hands slide up your spine, gripping your shoulders as he keeps fucking into you, his rhythm never faltering, his thrusts just as deep, just as brutal.

Your body won’t stop shaking, your nerves fried, oversensitive, overwhelmed-

And then, he presses his thumb against your clit.

Your whole body spasms violently.

“Chris- fuck- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he grits out, his jaw clenched, his thrusts getting sloppier, rougher. “Give me one more, mama.”

You scream, arching against the seat, your whole body convulsing as the pleasure builds again, hot, unbearable, unstoppable.

Chris keeps pounding into you, his thumb pressing cruel, relentless circles against your clit, dragging you over the edge all over again.

Your vision goes white.

Your arms completely give out, your forehead dropping onto the seat as your entire body locks up.

You squirt again.

Hard.

Chris groans loudly, his rhythm stuttering as your release pours out of you, soaking everything- his cock, his jeans, the leather seats, the ground beneath you.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline, watching as you completely fall apart for him.

But he’s still not done.

His movements grow rougher, sloppier, more desperate, his own release creeping up fast.

Chris grits his teeth, thrusting deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he moans, an octav higher than usual. And then he cums.

His grip on your waist tightens painfully, his whole body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you to the brim, stuffing you full until his release is dripping down your thighs again, mixing with everything else.

The only sound in the alley is your ragged breathing, the distant hum of the city, and the steady, rhythmic creak of the ZR1’s door as it sways slightly from the aftermath of what just happened.

Chris sags against you, his chest heaving, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you up.

Because you can’t even hold yourself up anymore.

Your legs are completely shot, trembling uncontrollably, your entire body liquid, useless.

Chris notices, chuckles breathlessly. “Fucked you stupid, huh?”

You let out a weak, half-dazed whimper.

Chris grins, pressing a lazy kiss against your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, mama,” he mutters, gripping your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. “I got you.”

Chris holds you against him for a moment longer, breathing deep, still recovering from the wreckage he just caused between your thighs. You’re still shaking, twitching, completely spent, barely able to keep yourself upright.

He runs his hands down your body, gentler now, softer, before reaching into the center console- the right one this time. He pulls out another clean rag and starts wiping you down, cleaning up the mess he made, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate tenderness that almost makes your heart stutter.

Chris doesn’t rush. Doesn’t rush you.

When he’s finished, he helps you back into your dress, sliding the neckline over your tits, fixing the fabric like he wasn’t just completely destroying you minutes ago.

“C’mon, ma,” he mutters, pulling his hoodie back over his head. “Can’t have you walkin’ around bare-assed when I take you home.”

You blink up at him, still a little dazed. “You’re…taking me home?”

Chris hesitates, then shakes his head. “Nah,” he mutters. “Too risky. That cop got a good look at the car. Can’t be seen near your place right now.”

Your stomach twists. “So…where are we going?”

Chris smirks. A lazy, knowing smirk. “That only leaves one play, ma. My place.”

The ZR1 peels out of the alley, engine growling as Chris pushes it back onto the main road, driving fast, taking sharp turns, making sure no one’s on his tail.

Your fingers grip the seatbelt tightly, your pulse still hammering from the chase, from everything.

Chris glances over at you, his free hand resting on your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles over your skin. Calming. Possessive.

“You good, ma?”

You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to breathe. “I think so.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ll get used to it.”

You’ve never gotten used to Chris’s driving. And it’s been a year. And he knows that. He laughs as he pulls into a dark, unmarked entrance.

The underground garage is massive, dimly lit, lined with luxury cars, motorcycles, and bullet-riddled SUVs. The air is thick with cigarette smoke, the stench of gasoline, the scent of money, danger, sin.

And people.

So many fucking people.

Amed men in designer hoodies and gold chains. Bitches in barely-there outfits, strippers sitting on laps, rolling blunts, snorting snow, counting cash. The sound of laughter, music, the occasional burst of a gunshot in the distance- a lawless, reckless world you have no business being in.

And yet Chris leads you straight inside like you belong there. Your pink dress feels ridiculous now. Frilly, soft, strapless, and sweet- a sharp contrast to the raw, violent energy surrounding you.

Chris doesn’t seem to care. His grip on your wrist tightens, guiding you through the chaos, his presence commanding enough that people move out of the way.

You recognize one face immediately.

Matt.

Chris’ triplet brother is leaning back on the couch, a blunt between his fingers, a thick stack of cash sitting on the table beside him.

His girlfriend, Ava, is perched on his lap- all tanned skin, dark hair, sultry blue eyes, her manicured fingers tracing lazy circles over his chest.

Ava spots you first. Smirks. “Well, well,” she purrs, eyeing your dress with amusement. “I remember you. What’s a sweet little thing like you doing back here in a place like this?”

You swallow, glancing at Chris.

Chris doesn’t answer, just keeps walking, pulling you along. But you manage to offer Ava a small smile as you pass and you watch as Matt raises the blunt in his hand to her lips.

“Hi, Ava.”

Ava chuckles, shaking her head and blowing out smoke from her nose as matt lowers his hand. “Hi, baby. Don’t let those bitches eat you alive. Let net know if you need me to shoot a bitch in the head, kay?”

You barely have time to process the warning before they swarm.

A group of half-naked girls, strippers, and groupies push forward, all of them reaching for Chris, calling his name, batting their lashes, pressing too close.

“Chris, baby-”

“Where you been all night?”

“Damn, you just gonna walk past me?”

One particularly bold girl runs a hand down his arm, leaning in too close, her lips near his jaw.

Chris doesn’t even look at her.

Instead- he pulls you in tighter, his grip bruising, possessive.

“Back the fuck off,” he mutters, his voice low, dangerous, leaving no room for argument.

The girls falter, blinking in surprise.

Chris just keeps walking, his arm slinging around your waist, pressing you close to his side.

One of the girls- taller, curvier, and dripping in diamonds- crosses her arms, glaring. “Who’s she?”

Chris finally stops.

Turns his head just enough to look her dead in the eye.

“She’s my girl.”

A heavy silence follows.

The girls stare at you, glaring, confused, skeptical, their eyes roaming over your soft, pink dress, your innocent face, your unfamiliarity.

You look so out of place here. And yet Chris doesn’t falter. Just pulls you along, ignoring the whispers, the tension, the jealousy.

He leads you up the stairs, past more people, past the chaos, past the smell of liquor and gunpowder and sex-

Until his bedroom door slams shut behind you. You exhale sharply, your chest heaving as you finally take a moment to breathe.

Chris leans back against the door, watching you. Hungry all over again.

“You still wanna be here, ma?” he murmurs, using the nickname like it’s a challenge. Like he’s daring you to run.

You meet his gaze. And then, without hesitation you nod.

Chris watches you for a beat, his dark eyes scanning every inch of you- your trembling fingers, the slight flush on your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls like you’re still trying to catch your breath.

Like you should be scared. Because you should be. This world? It isn’t soft. It isn’t kind. It isn’t safe. But you don’t run.

You stand there, in your ridiculous little pink dress, looking out of place as hell, and still- you don’t waver.

Chris lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You got balls, ma.”

You lift your chin slightly, crossing your arms. “And you’ve got bitches downstairs who think they own you.”

Chris raises a brow, pushing off the door. Slow, deliberate. Like a lion stalking prey. “What? You jealous? You jealous about it?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Fuck you.”

Chris steps closer. “Say that again. Look me in the eye and say that again.”

You try. You really do.

But he’s so close now, the scent of his cologne thick in the air between you. Your gaze flickers, just slightly.

Chris smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

You glare up at him, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips when he cages you in against the wall, his hands planting themselves on either side of your head.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you murmur, voice softer now.

Chris tilts his head, eyes dark, amused. “What question?”

You lick your lips. “Are they yours?”

Chris doesn’t even hesitate.

“No.”

He leans in, his breath brushing against your cheek. “They ain’t ever been mine.” His lips graze your jaw, barely there, his voice lowering to something almost dangerous. “But you? You are.”

Your breath catches.

Chris notices. Smirks.

“You scared, ma?”

You don’t answer. Chris lets out a slow, dark chuckle. “You should be.”

Then he kisses you. Hard. Desperate. Possessive.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you against him, letting you feel every inch of him, letting you know exactly what you do to him.

You whimper against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hoodie, clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

Chris growls, lifting you with ease, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing you back against the door.

“You still mad, baby?” he mutters, dragging his lips down your neck, biting, claiming.

You pant, your head falling back as his fingers slide up your thighs, bunching your dress higher.

“Baby-”

“Say it,” he demands, teasing the soft skin between your legs, smirking when you twitch. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You bite your lip, your whole body burning, aching.

Chris pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, heavy, full of something dark and consuming.

“Say. It.” he murmurs, his voice softer now, like he needs to hear it just as much as he needs to fuck you senseless.

You nod.

Chris doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

You swallow hard, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“I’m yours.”

Chris grins and without warning, he spins you around, presses your front against the door, his body caging you from behind.

His hands grip your hips, pressing you back against his hardening cock, making you gasp.

“You gonna let me remind you who you belong to, baby?”

You nod frantically, breathless.

Chris grins against your ear.

“Good girl.”

You wake up in his bed hours later, the sun outside just about to rise, the kind that only exists in the last few moments before sunrise.

Chris is still asleep beside you, arm draped over his eyes, his other hand resting low on your waist. You should leave. You usually wake him up to lead you out since he claims it’s too dangerous for you to just leave by yourself.

But instead, you stay.

Tracing idle patterns against his bare skin, listening to the steady sound of his breathing. Letting yourself forget, just for a little while, what this is.

Because in a few hours when the sun rises, you’ll be home.

And your father will be talking about Chris again.

And you’ll be nodding along, pretending not to know exactly where he is.

Pretending you won’t be in his bed again by tomorrow night.

A/N: AN EDIT OF CHRIS TO SPORTS CAR THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK! AAAHHHH!!!

MASTERLIST

Alone

It was a late Sunday morning, and you were sleeping in over at your boyfriend's house. The two of you were tangled in Matt's sheets, legs intertwined, and lips interlocked, taking advantage of the fact that this had been your first chance for alone time in weeks.

Rays of sunlight filtered in through Matt's thin, flowy curtain, bathing the two of you in a warm glow. The bedroom door was cracked open, and the house was quiet besides the soft sounds of Matt kissing down your body and you giggling in response.

Matt slowly inched down on the bed. He positioned himself between your legs while you were on your back, hooking his finger into your cotton panties and pulling them to the side. He smirked, and his gaze flickered up at you when he saw how turned on you were.

"Oh, my god," you softly moaned, your hand flying down to cradle the back of Matt's head as he leaned in and gave you a long, slow lick. Matt's tongue slithered between your pink folds, circling your sensitive clit and sending waves of pleasure through all your nerve endings.

He teased you for a few minutes, slowly exploring your cunt with his soft tongue, inching towards your favorite spot and then slowly backing off. You let out a desperate sigh, pleading with your eyes for him to lock onto his target, but he was enjoying this a little too much.

He bit down on the waistband of your cotton panties. You lifted your hips, giggling as he slowly tugged them down off your legs with his teeth. He tossed them to the side and grabbed the inside of your thighs, his fingertips digging into your plush skin as he spread you open.

He started to rub your pussy, a sly grin curling on his lips. Without warning, he lifted his arm, and his palm came down with a whack! You gasped loudly, squirming beneath him. "You like it when I slap your pretty pussy?" Matt cooed, soothing the sting by massaging it again.

You responded with an eager nod. "Mhmm," you hummed, your eyelids growing heavy. He repeated the same motion, the smack echoing throughout the room, leaving you swollen and throbbing. He licked his lips, a darkness welling in his expression as he watched you clench around nothing.

He lowered his head between your thighs again, slowly inhaling your scent as his blue eyes burned through you. "You want me to eat it?" Matt purred, his breath hitting your center. You fervently nodded. "Come on. Be a good girl and beg for it," Matt smirked up at you.

"Matt, please. Please," you moaned desperately, tugging on his hair and trying to guide him towards your cunt.

"Yeah? Like this?" Matt taunted you, giving you slow, long lick. You whimpered, lifting your hips off the bed.

"More. Please," you whined.

"Like this?" He asked, speeding up the flick of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"More," you softly asked. He closed his lips down around your small bud, humming against it, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. You nearly melted at the sight. "Just like that," you said in a breathy moan.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he complimented you, coming up for air before he dove back in. You clamped your thighs down over his ears as he started mixing the techniques, drawing circles on your clit while he sucked on it.

"Oh! Matt! You're so good with your tongue!" You exclaimed as he started to lick you faster, your slickness flooding his tastebuds. He worked his tongue fervently, the tip of it dancing over your cunt and filling the room with wet sounds. Your moans spilled out of you effortlessly, encouraging Matt's intensifying efforts.

You felt that familiar fluttering sensation in your stomach like you were going to come unraveled at any minute. You were just at the edge when Matt pulled away with a smirk, leaving you unfinished. You whined at the loss of contact.

"What's the matter?" Matt softly cooed as if he didn't just leave you hanging. He reached into his pajamas, pulling out his already hard cock. He climbed on top of you, spreading your legs. "You gonna take it all?" He purred, lining his swollen tip up with your pussy.

"Mhmm," you hummed, looking at him in desperation.

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes fluttered shut when he entered you and pushed it all the way in, feeling you writhe beneath him. He started to move his hips, your walls clenching around him in response.

"Stay still. Take it," Matt mumbled into your ear before he started to pick up the pace. His cock throbbed as he pistoned into you, hitting your gspot every time. Your toes curled, pleasure rippling through you as you dragged your nails across Matt's shoulder blades.

"Fuck! Don't stop!" You begged, not caring at all about how loud you were being.

"Gonna mark up my back? Feels that good, huh?" Matt panted back, completely lost in the euphoric feeling. He fucked you so hard that the headboard started to rhythmically thump against the wall with every snap of his hips.

Suddenly, Matt gripped the back of your thighs, pulling you down further onto the bed and pinning you between his body and his mattress, both of your legs slung over his shoulder. He propelled his hips forward again, the position offering a deeper stroke.

"Yeah? You like that? You like it when I pin you down and make you take it deep like that?" He asked through his ragged breaths, making you squeeze around him. You nodded with a fucked out look on your face.

Matt wasn't holding back. It was rare that he had the house to himself when you were free, and he was going to make you feel every inch of him. You were a moaning, drooling mess, gapsing for air as Matt drilled his cock into your wet pussy, triggering the creak of the bed beneath you.

"Take it. Take it. Take it," he growled over and over as he held your hips in place, his cock pulsing inside of you as his name fell from your lips like a chant. You could feel the coil tightening in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

Without warning, Matt abruptly pulled out of you, roughly flipping you over in one fell swoop. You gasped as Matt firmly gripped your hips and pulled you onto his cock, feeling you stretch around him in this new position.

He didn't waste any time before he twisted your hair into his fist, pulling you by your locks as he started to fuck you hard. The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy echoed throughout the house as your eyes rolled back in your head.

"Take my cock. That's it. Take it like a good girl," Matt's voice traveled to your ears, his dirty words amplifying the feeling of every brutal thrust. You grasped at the sheets beneath you, trying to hold out a bit longer, but you knew your self-control was slipping.

"I'm - I'm gonna cum," you managed to squeak out, Matt's thrusts throwing you around like a rag doll. All you could hear was your blood rushing to your brain, your heart pounding in your ears, and the sound of Matt's hips rhythmically slamming into your ass.

"That's it. Be a good girl and cum on my cock," Matt grunted through his breathlessness, sweat glistening on his face and chest as he used all his strength to rail you.

You could feel the world around you slipping away, all consumed by your pleasure and Matt's sweet voice talking you through it while he did incredibly naughty things to you. You arched your back, your pussy spasming around Matt's length, glazing his cock in your milky fluid.

"I'm gonna fill up this pretty pussy," Matt responded in a daze, his member starting to twitch inside of you as you sucked him in.

"Yes! Fill me up!" You squealed at the height of your climax. Matt pumped you full of his seed, burying himself deep inside of you and holding your hips still as he drained his cock. He felt light-headed as his blood pressure dropped, nearly causing him to collapse on top of you.

"Holy shit," you whispered, trying to call your breath back to you as you melted into the mattress beneath you.

"Did you like that?" Matt cooed, turning you over again as he nuzzled into your neck. "You took it so fucking well. Came so hard for me."

The two of laid there for a couple of minutes, whispering sweet nothings to one another and trying to recover from the intense climax the two of you had shared.

Eventually, the two of you slipped out of bed and into fresh pair of clothes, still giggling and manhandling each other as you both stepped out into the kitchen.

You gasped, your heart skipping a beat when you realized that, despite the impression you and Matt were under, both of his brothers were home. You stared at the two of them wide-eyed and mouth agape as they both sat quietly at the table, a bowl of cereal in front of each of them.

"You know, I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing the way the two of you talk to each other in bed," Nick said in an unamused tone, finally breaking the silence and flashing you a scorned look.

You were completely humiliated, wondering how long they'd both been sitting here, what they'd heard, what they'd been picturing...

"How much did you guys..?" You wondered, your voice trailing off as your eyes flickered over to Chris, who still hadn't looked up at you once, his cheeks pink with embarrassment and arousal.

"Everything," Chris replied timidly, trying to keep his gaze down, afraid that if he looked at you too long that he'd start picturing things. You watched as his hand flew down to try to subtly adjust his hardening cock.

"Yeah. I'd tell you guys to get a room, but no room could contain the kind of deranged, depraved shit you guys are doing together," Nick chimed in, staring down his nose at you both and harshly judging you for what he'd just heard. "Had to sit here next to Chris while he got a hard on, listening to you two."

"Did not!" Chris yelled, raising a hand as if he were about to hit him, his cheeks blushing an even deeper shade of red now. "I did not," Chris repeated more quietly as his gaze shifted back over to the two of you.

Matt was always embarrassed when he woke up like this, dick hard in his pajama pants, aching, and practically pulsing for you, laying beside him. He groaned softly, rubbing over his face with his hands. Your back was to him, you turned, voice groggy like it was every morning, "you okay baby?" You asked softly and Matt nodded, "yeah.. just.. got a situation again," he mumbled, the blush rising from his neck up to his face.

You giggled softly, before pushing your ass back against him, gasping softly when you felt him press against you. He groaned again, this time needier, grabbing your hips to stop you. "Baby.. please," he said, voice slightly whiny, he only ever got like this in the morning, when he felt so embarrassed for waking up rock hard. "Please what Matty?" You asked, making Matt roll his eyes at the dumb nickname, you were just teasing him.

He couldn't help but pull your hips closer, taking everything in him not to grind against your plush ass. "Can I please, please fuck your pretty pussy?" Matt said softly against your ear making you whimper in response as you nodded. He kissed behind your ear before his hands pushed down your pajama shorts and panties. He spread your legs slightly, lining himself up. He ran his cock through your folds, shuddering at how wet you were already. "Fuck baby.. so fucking perfect," he breathed out as he pushed into you with slight resistance.

You sighed out as he pushed in, your eyes closing in blissful pleasure. You loved how full he made you feel, the two of you could just stay like that and you'd be happy. He put his hands back on your hips, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He moaned into your neck as he began to thrust. He was slow, gentle, there was no rush to this, just the two of you together. You let out soft moans with each thrust, letting him take full control.

He reached around, using his finger tips to rub your bundle of nerves, your eyes rolled back as you moaned. "Fuck matt," you breathed out between moans. He could feel you clenching around his cock, he could feel every inch of your walls sucking him in. He was losing it, his thrusts faltering as his orgasm approached. You were close behind, gripping onto his wrist as a lifeline as you felt the band in your stomach tighten.

"Oh my god," you cried out, cumming around Matt's cock. He came soon after, painting your walls white. He gave a few sloppy thrusts for good measure before stilling, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close as you both caught your breath. "Fuck I love you," Matt said softly. "I love you too Matty," you said, giggling as Matt groaned again. "I hate that nickname.." he said softly. "And I love it. So guess you're stuck with it." You giggled, cuddling into him before the two of you accidentally fell back asleep.