Ethan's thumb pressed harder, slow and deliberate, rubbing tight circles right over the soaked seam of her jeans. Natalia's hips jerked involuntarily, a tiny whimper slipping past her lips before she could bite it back.
"Answer me," he growled, voice thick with whiskey and three years of pent-up rage. The lantern cast flickering shadows across his face, making him look feral. Dangerous. Exactly like the man who used to own her throat.
She couldn't lie anymore. The alcohol had burned away the last of her defenses. Her pussy was throbbing so hard she could feel her heartbeat between her legs, panties drenched, clit swollen and begging.
"I… I do," she whispered, the confession ripping out of her like a sob. "Every fucking night, Ethan. I touch myself thinking about it. About choking on that massive cock. How it stretched my throat until I couldn't breathe. How I used to gag and drool and come just from the taste of you flooding my stomach while your dad was ten feet away."
Ethan's breath hitched. His free hand tightened on his glass until the knuckles went white. He knocked back the rest of the scotch in one burning swallow, then set it aside.
"Three years," he rasped, leaning in closer, his huge body caging her against the arm of the couch. "Three goddamn years I've been jerking this dick raw every single night to the memory of you on your knees. I'd lock myself in my room after you went to bed and stroke myself stupid thinking about your mascara running down your face, your throat bulging, the way you'd moan around my cock like you were starving for it. I came so many times imagining you begging me to fuck your face harder."
Natalia's eyes fluttered shut. A fresh gush of wetness soaked her panties. She was trembling now, thighs squeezing around his hand like she could trap the pressure there forever.
"I tried to forget," she admitted, voice cracking. "I told myself it was just the pandemic. Isolation. Loneliness. That we were wrong. But every time I closed my eyes… I could still feel you down my throat. Still taste you. I haven't let any other man near me since. Not like that. No one else could ever—"
"Shut up," he cut her off, but there was no anger in it anymore—just raw, starving need. His hand slid higher, cupping her pussy through the denim, grinding the heel of his palm against her clit until her back arched off the couch. "You're mine. You've always been mine since that first time in the laundry room. You knew it. I knew it. The whole fucking world went back to normal and we both pretended, but we never stopped belonging to each other."
The blanket had long since fallen to the floor. The cold air kissed her skin, but she was burning up. Ethan's face was inches from hers now. His breath smelled like scotch and pure male hunger. His free hand came up to grip her jaw, thumb stroking roughly over her full lower lip.
"Tell me you want it again," he demanded, eyes locked on hers. "Tell me you want to choke on me like the filthy little stepmom you are."
Natalia's tongue darted out, licking the pad of his thumb. Her voice came out broken and desperate. "I want it. God, Ethan, I need it. I need you down my throat again. I need you to use me like you used to."
The last word had barely left her mouth when he snapped.
His mouth crashed into hers—rough, angry, starving. No gentle first kiss. This was teeth and tongue and three years of violent repression exploding all at once. He devoured her, biting her lower lip hard enough to sting, then thrusting his tongue deep like he was already fucking her face. Natalia moaned into his mouth, hands fisting his hoodie, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with equal ferocity. Their tongues slid wet and filthy together, spit mixing, breaths ragged.
Ethan's hand between her legs never stopped moving—rubbing her through her jeans in brutal rhythm with the kiss, making her grind against his palm like a whore in heat. She could feel how hard he was, that massive cock trapped against her hip, leaking through the sweatpants and throbbing for her.
When they finally broke apart, gasping, a thin string of saliva connected their lips for one filthy second.
Ethan's eyes were wild, chest heaving. His voice came out a low, broken snarl.
"Get on your fucking knees, Natalia."
End of Chapter 3