YEARN FOR YOU

The wall wasn't thick enough

Lizzy’s POV

I took the bus home from Ken’s place with tears still drying on my cheeks.

An unsatisfied virgin. That was me. The night I had planned for months had ended in under ten minutes and left me emptier than when I arrived.

By the time I unlocked my apartment door, my body was still aching. I dropped my purse on the floor and stood in the dark, listening to the silence. It didn’t last long.

A hard thud hit the wall that separated my unit from Josh’s.

Then another.

Then the unmistakable sound of skin slamming against skin, wet and brutal.

Josh’s deep, broken groans cut through the wall, mixed with the overlapping moans of three different girls. The bedframe in his room pounded the shared wall in a relentless rhythm. I pressed my back to the door and felt fresh wetness slide down my inner thighs.

Ken had left me dripping and unfinished.

Josh was over there wrecking three girls at once and still sounding like he had more to give.

I slid down to the floor, yanked my dress up to my waist, and shoved two fingers inside myself. I was still soaked from earlier. The wet, filthy sound of my own fingers only made me more desperate. I tried to bend far enough to lick myself and failed, cursing under my breath. My vibrator sat useless on the nightstand—dead. I had forgotten to charge it.

So I used my hands.

In the mirror across the room I watched myself: legs spread wide on the floor, three fingers now pumping deep, free hand twisting and pulling my n*****s until they burned. Every time Josh’s groans grew louder, my hips jerked. I came once, hard and quiet, biting my lip until I tasted blood. The release was weak. It only made the ache worse. Thick, whitish fluid coated my fingers. I brought them to my mouth and licked them clean, tasting myself while the sounds from next door kept going.

I must have dozed off still touching myself.

I woke to a large, warm hand sliding up my inner thigh and another one roughly cupping my breast, thumb dragging hard over the n****e.

My eyes flew open.

Josh was kneeling over me, shirtless, sweat still glistening on his chest and abs. The door I had forgotten to lock stood wide open behind him. He smelled like s*x and other women’s perfume.

He pulled his c**k out.

I stared.

Six thick, heavy inches of veined d**k, already half-hard and growing thicker in his fist. The complete opposite of what I had taken earlier that night. My mouth went dry. My p***y clenched around nothing.

He didn’t ask. He flipped me onto my stomach on the bed, shoved my dress higher, and forced himself inside me from behind in one long, brutal stroke. The stretch burned so good I cried out into the sheets. He bottomed out and stayed there for a second, letting me feel every thick inch splitting me open, then started f*****g me like he still had three girls’ worth of aggression left in him.

Deep. Hard. Wet.

The slap of his hips against my ass filled the room. Each thrust shoved me higher up the mattress. I pushed back to meet him, greedy, already dripping down my thighs. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back while he pounded into me, using my body like it belonged to him.

When he finally came, he buried himself to the hilt and flooded me. Hot, thick pulses spilled so deep I felt them. I clenched around him, shaking through a second orgasm that left my legs useless.

I thought that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

He was still hard.

He pulled out, flipped me onto my hands and knees, and shoved his c*m-slick c**k against my lips. I opened. The taste of my own wetness mixed with his load coated my tongue. He held my hair in both hands and f****d my throat in steady, relentless strokes. Spit and c*m ran down my chin and dripped onto my t**s. I gagged, eyes watering, but I didn’t pull away. I took him deeper, desperate, letting him use my mouth the same way he had just used my p***y.

Sometime after one in the morning my phone started ringing on the nightstand. I reached for it blindly with one hand. He didn’t stop. He kept slamming into my throat while I swiped the screen to silence it. The second the phone was down he pulled my hair back, stroked himself twice over my face, and came again—thick ropes across my tongue and lips. I swallowed every drop, then opened my mouth wider, showing him it was gone.

He wasn’t finished.

He pushed me onto my back, climbed between my legs, and slid back into my c*m-filled p***y like he owned it. I locked my ankles around his waist and held on while he f****d me harder than before. The bedframe slammed the wall the same way it had when he was with the other girls. This time the only sounds were my broken moans and the wet, filthy noise of him driving into me over and over.

By 2:30 a.m. I was on top, riding him with my hands braced on his chest while he squeezed and slapped my t**s. My thighs burned. My voice was raw. Every time I thought I couldn’t take any more, he thrust up harder and proved me wrong. c*m from earlier leaked out around his c**k with every bounce, making everything wetter, messier, louder.

This was the night I had wanted with Ken.

Rough. Endless. Filthy.

A man who could keep going long after I started falling apart.

When we finally collapsed, sticky and exhausted, my body was still twitching. c*m leaked from me onto the sheets. My throat was sore. My p***y felt used in the best possible way.

I stared at the ceiling and felt something dangerous settle in my chest.

I had gotten exactly what I needed.

And I already knew I would come back for more.