Hawthorne Tisch was on fire. Every nerve ending in his entire body was jangling, and urging him on to ravish Harper Collins. The man's erection strained the fabric of his pants, and felt as if it was almost about to burst the seams; thicker, and throbbing with more urgency than he could recall. The sounds of her words, taunts, moans and whimpers, and the sight her body, skin sheened with perspiration, juices from her orgasm glistening on her thighs, neck and chest marked by his teeth, and ass and thighs welted and bruised from his spanks, was almost too much to bear. He wanted to take her, more-so than any other woman he'd ever met, and Harper Collins needed to cease with the taunts so that she could be filled with his cock. But would she ever stop challenging him? Not a hope in hell, and that's the way he liked it.
As desperate as she was to be satiated, Hawthorne was the same, and as he gripped her wrists and threatened to leave her there, writhing and needy, until she truly went insane, that's all it was. A threat. Possibly, on another occasion, the man would do it, leave Harper bound, and tease and taunt her to the edge of no return, time and time again until she was nothing but a dripping, begging, pleading, drooling, crazy mess, unable to remember her own name, and to whom what occurred on this particular night would be looked back upon as a walk in the park. However, to do so that evening would mean Hawthorne Tisch would be required to deny himself as well, and that was not in the nature. If the man wanted something, he took it, and right now he was going to take Harper. If she believed she'd contributed to that, or that she'd somehow won the 'game', then that was just fine with the Landlord of the Manor. Sometimes there were no losers.
He could see in her expression that for a moment she must have believed that he would truly do it, and it brought a smile to his face. However, that moment soon passed when, with his raging erection released, he slammed her against the cross, and buried every thick, hard inch of his cock into her soaked cunt. His eyes burned bright with lust as they stared into hers, and his mouth dropped open to emit a loud groan of pleasure at the sensation of her muscles clamped around his pulsing shaft, then he leaned forward to bite down on her lower lip in a heated kiss, and simultaneously bent his legs and released his hold on her wrists. A second later, he'd planted both palms on her bruised and beaten ass, pulled her writing hips further toward him, unbent his knees, shot up, and rammed his erection into Harper with all the force he could muster. The man panted, and groaned, and bit her lip, teeth and neck as his nails scratched the flesh of her butt, then one arm raised and a hand slapped an ass cheek before his digits hooked into the hair at the nape of her neck.
Hawthorne forced her entire body to stretch out to its limit as he forcefully pulled on her tresses, and almost split her in half with the next thrust. Buried balls deep, the man shook his head when her lips brushed his, and she issued another taunt. "That's because I wanted you dripping like the dirty, little cock-craving slut you truly are, before I fucked you." The response came out in gasps, and groans, 'I knew what you were, before you did, Harper Collins. And you're right, your dripping cunt feels so good. I intended to make it mine from the first moment I laid eyes on you, and I'm a man who always gets what he wants." Tisch smiled, and eyes flashed with an indescribable emotion before his head dipped, and he sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin of the woman's throat.
The wood of the cross creaked as if were about to snap, and hammered against the wall when, with Harper's legs and arms spread and bound, and her tits bouncing, Hawthorne began to pound her with ever increasing intensity and force. He hadn't thought his cock could get any deeper, but soon discovered he was wrong, and a moan of pure ecstasy escaped his mouth as Harper's tight walls clamped around him, and her juices soaked his invading cock. The angle of each thrust was different from the last, and hit every inch of her dripping pussy. Hawthorne's member filled her perfectly, as if it had been made for just one purpose. To fuck Harper Collin's with.
His bite loosened on her throat as the salty taste of blood dribbled onto his tongue, however his fingers continued to scrape the flesh of her ass, and rake down the back of her thighs, to leave even more scratches and bruises to later be soothed, and he almost tore clumps of hair from her scalp with the digits that maintained a hold on her tresses. The manner in which Hawthorne fucked her was that of a madman or animal. He owned her body, and the noises of his pants and moans mingled with those emanating from her, the slap of his balls against her thighs, and that of his cock ravaging her cunt. His eyes rolled back in his head, and as sweat dripped down his skin to soak his shirt, with Harper impaled on his swollen shaft, he titled his head back, and locked eyes. "Come for me slut, come all over my cock, and show me who owns this fucking pussy now." Hawthorne Tisch could barely hold on, and though crazy with his own need for relief, the man still retained enough of his senses to not want to give Harper Collin's the satisfaction of him finishing before her.
Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
