9: F*ck me quick
1091 Words
~ Evie ~
That family chat Dad sprung on us last night? It's still messing with my head this morning. I'm in the kitchen, pouring coffee, trying to act like everything's chill, but my brain's replaying it on loop. Dad wanting grandkids, pushing us about partners. And Jack admitting later, while he's deep inside me, that he wants to go public. Like, actually introduce me as his girlfriend. To our parents. Yeah, right. That'd blow everything up. But damn, the way he said it, thrusting harder each time, like he's f*****g the idea into me... it got me so wet. I came hard thinking about it, even if it's terrifying.
Now, Claire's at the table, flipping through her phone, sipping tea. She looks up when I sit down. "Morning, sweetie. Sleep okay?"
"Yeah, fine." I take a gulp of coffee, too hot, burns my tongue. s**t. But I need the caffeine because Jack's already texted me: "Downstairs in 10. Need your mouth." We've been going at it non-stop, sneaking quickies wherever. But with Claire's eyes on me now, it feels riskier. She noticed how flushed I was in the car, kept glancing back. And last night, after Dad's talk, she asked if I was "seeing anyone secretly." I laughed it off, but her tone... like she knows something's up.
Jack strolls in then, hair still wet from the shower, wearing those pants that hug his d**k just right. He grabs a mug, brushes past me on purpose, his hip grazing my ass. "Morning, Evie. Claire." His voice is casual.
Claire sets her phone down, smiles at him. "You two were up late last night, huh? Heard some noises from upstairs. Sounded like... moving around." She says it light, but her eyes dart between us. Noises? f**k, were we that loud? I remember biting the pillow when he came inside me, but maybe the bed creaked too much.
Jack shrugs, pouring coffee. "Yeah, couldn't sleep after Dad's big speech. Evie probably same." He sits across from me, foot nudging mine under the table. I press back, hard, warning him.
Claire nods slow. "That chat was something. Your dad means well, but... yeah. Anyway, Evie, your shirt's inside out." She points at my top, eyebrow up. s**t. I look down—yep, seams showing. I yanked it on quick after Jack left my room at 2 a.m. "Oh, crap. Must've dressed half-asleep." I laugh it off, but she just hums, like she's filing it away.
Dad comes in then, saves us, talking about work. Breakfast drags, but Claire keeps watching. When Jack passes me the milk, his fingers linger on mine a second too long. She clears her throat. "You kids are getting along better lately. Nice to see." It's sweet, but there's an edge. Like she's piecing things together - the noises, my messy clothes. My heart's pounding. If she knew how "well" we're getting along... me on my knees last week, swallowing his load while everyone slept. Or him bending me over the laundry machine, whispering how tight my p***y feels, even though he’s been inside me so many times already.
After Dad leaves for his walk, Claire stands. "I'm running to the store. Need anything?" She looks right at me, then Jack. "You two behaving while we're gone?"
Jack chuckles. "Always, Mom." But his eyes are on me, dark. Promising.
She leaves. I wait ten seconds, then I'm on him. "Kitchen. Now." We crash together, his hands yanking my shorts down as I shove his pants off. No time for slow. "f**k me quick," I whisper, hopping up on the counter. Legs spread wide, thick c**k bobbing as he steps between my thighs.
I grab his ass, pull him in. He slides deep. I gasp. "Harder. Make it hurt a little."
He groans, pumps fast. Counter's cold under my ass, but his body's hot, slamming into me.
Deeper.
My moans slipping out, too loud, too needy.
His c**k’s owning me, relentless, and I’m already drunk on it. I'm losing my f*****g mind.
No one’s home. So I let go.
“Harder, Jack - f*****g ruin me,” I yell. “Make it hurt.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He pounds harder, meaner. He locks in deep, hips grinding like he’s trying to crawl inside me, and unloads. Thick c*m blast straight into my guts - hot, heavy pulses that keep coming, filling me until I feel the pressure build.
We stay locked together, breathing.
He pulls back just enough to look straight into my eyes, lips curling into that filthy little smile.
“Evie… your p***y’s the only thing I give a damn about right now. Nothing feels half as good as being deep in it.”
But then - keys in the door. Claire's back already? f**k!
We freeze. Jack pulls out fast. I hop off the counter, yank my shorts up, both of us scrambling. The door opens. "Forgot my list!" Claire calls.
She's in the hall now, steps coming closer. Jack grabs a towel, wipes the counter quick. I smooth my hair, turn to the sink like I'm washing dishes. Heart's exploding. Did she hear? See?
She walks in, stops. Looks at us. Me at the sink, breathing heavy. Jack leaning on the fridge, face red. My shorts are crooked, a wet spot probably showing. And the air... smells like s*x.
"Everything okay?" she asks, eyes narrowing. "You two look... busy."
Jack laughs it off. "Just cleaning up. Spilled some coffee."
She hums again, grabs her list from the table. But she lingers, sniffing subtle. "Smells weird in here. Like... sweat?" Her gaze flicks to my inside-out shirt - still not fixed. Then to Jack's sweats, where his d**k's probably still half-hard, outlining.
My stomach drops. She's connecting dots. Noises last night. Clothes mishaps. Now this. "Claire, I..."
She cuts me off with a smile that's too tight. "No worries. I'll be quick at the store." But as she turns, she adds, "We should talk later. About... partners. Like your dad said." Her eyes meet mine, sharp. Implication heavy. Does she know? Or just suspect?
Door shuts. Jack exhales. "Close as fuck."
"Yeah." But my mind's racing. Fear mixing with that post-f**k glow. Our attachment's growing - he wants more. But exposure? It'd destroy everything. Dad's grandkid dreams turning into nightmare. Claire flipping out.
What if she walks in for real? Catches us mid-thrust?
Tonight feels riskier in the home gym.
Claire slides her window open just as Jack’s pounding me doggy right there.
What does she see?
- Writer
