CHAPTER 39: YOU FUCKING BITCH

"Fuck, Sylvia," he ground out, his hips snapping forward brutally. He used her mouth, each thrust a punishment. "You fucking bitch!" His hand tightened in her hair, forcing her to take him deeper.

Sylvia gagged around him, tears springing to her eyes. She moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him groan louder, his hips driving harder. She clutched at his thighs, nails digging into denim as she tried to steady herself.

"You like that, don’t you?" Joey snarled, breathless. "Goddamn whore... you live for this. For me choking you on my cock." He yanked her head back just enough to see her lips stretched around him, spit glistening on her chin. The sight nearly undid him.

Her eyes met his, as if to say, I’ll take it all.

Sylvia’s hands slid higher, cupping his ass, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. She hummed around him, and his knees nearly buckled. His muttered obscenities turned into a broken rhythm of curses and praise, his body betraying just how close he was to losing control.

Joey yanked her head back, pulling his cock from her mouth with a wet pop. Sylvia coughed, spit dripping down her chin, strands of saliva connecting her lips to the flushed tip of him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You filthy slut," Joey hissed. He, himself couldn’t tell if he was angry or hungry.

With a rough growl, Joey grabbed her arm and hauled her up off her knees. She squealed in surprise, stumbling against the couch, but he spun her around and shoved her over the armrest. His hand landed hard on her ass.

"Goddamn you," he muttered, fumbling with her pants, yanking it down around her thighs. Her panties clung to her. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, tearing them aside.

Sylvia gasped then moaned when the hot, heavy length of him pressed against her slick entrance. "Joey..." she breathed. Not quite believing this moment.

"Shut up," he snapped, his hand gripping her hip. He thrust into her in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The force shoved her forward, her fingers clawing into the sofa’s upholstery to keep balance.

"Fuck," Joey cursed under his breath, his hips already pistoning hard into her. He slammed into her, his pace ruthless, every thrust punctuated by the sound of skin meeting skin. "My wife—" His voice cracked, his forehead falling briefly to her back. "I love my wife," he growled, but his hips betrayed him, driving deeper, faster.

Sylvia pushed back against him, matching his rhythm, moaning loud enough to drown out his muttered curses.

His hand slid up her back, fisting into her hair, yanking her head up so she arched for him. "You goddamn whore," he snarled, pounding into her harder, his breath ragged against her ear.

"God, Joey."

The room filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding. The scent of sex hung thick in the air. Joey’s mind warred, guilt gnawing at the edges, but his body refused to let go.

He slammed into her harder, his grip on her hips bruising. "You think this makes you special?" he spat. "You’re just a habit I just cant quit. Much like how you drown yourself at the bottom of a bottle everytime."

Sylvia only moaned louder, her nails dragging across the cushions.

He growled, fucking her rigorously, each thrust deeper, faster, more savage than the last. He was close but he bit down on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to hold back. He wasn’t ready to give her that victory. Not yet.

Joey pulled out of her and switched position. He wanted to watch her so he sat on the sofa just as Sylvia took off the rest of her clothes.

Rhen she was on him—straddling him.

She sank down in one smooth, merciless stroke, swallowing him whole. They both cried out. Her nails raked down his chest through his shirt as she began to move, riding him with a rhythm that was hypnotic.

"Goddamn it, Sylvia," Joey snarled, his head tipping back against the cushions. His hands flew to her hips, gripping hard, trying to control her pace. But she was relentless, rolling her hips, grinding down, squeezing him from every angle.

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "You like that, baby? That’s what you’ve been missing."

"Shut the fuck up," he growled. His eyes rolled back as she clenched around him.

The sofa rocked beneath them, squeaking with every thrust. She threw her head back, hair spilling over her shoulders, her breasts bouncing with every rise and fall. Joey couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stop wanting.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, his hips bucking up into her despite himself. His stomach tightened, his cock throbbing with the warning pulse he knew too well.

"No... no," he panted, his hands flying to her waist, trying to lift her off him. Panic flared in his chest. "I can’t—fuck, I can’t—"

But Sylvia was faster. She slammed herself down harder, locking her thighs around him, refusing to let go. "Yes, Joey," she moaned. "Give me all of you."

"Sylvia—no don’t!" he groaned, fighting her, his muscles straining as he tried to shove her off. But she clung tighter, nails digging into his shoulders, grinding against him with desperate abandon. His cock twitched inside her, the battle already lost.

He groaned, his head snapping back against the sofa. His body betrayed him, hips jerking violently upward as his orgasm tore through him. He spilled inside her, his curses dissolving into guttural groans.

Sylvia moaned in triumph, riding him through it, her nails dragging down his chest as she milked every last drop.

When it finally ebbed, Joey slumped against the sofa, sweat dripping down his temple, chest heaving. His hands slid helplessly from her hips, she stayed seated on him, her body pulsing with his release inside her.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Joey swore once his orgasm had passed.

He pulled her off of him and got to his feet, adjusting his pants and getting himself reasonably presentable. "I didn’t use protection. What did you do that for?"

(Kindly drop a comment for this Chapter. I dont usually write sex scenes this way. I am the passioante romantic kind. I dont really know if this is good or just bleh.