Hospital Debauchery-Chapter 194: The Bride II

His mouth was still on hers when the kiss turned into something filthy and slow, like he had decided to ruin her one heartbeat at a time.

Devon pulled back just enough that their lips barely touched, just enough for her to feel the wet heat of his breath, the faint scrape of stubble, the slick slide of his tongue when he licked across her bottom lip once, slow, tasting her.

His hand slid from the tangle of her hair to cradle the back of her neck, thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles at that spot just beneath her ear that always made her knees weak, made her pussy clench even now, empty and aching.

The other hand moved down the side of her throat, tracing the frantic flutter of her pulse, brushing the diamond choker that suddenly felt like a brand around her neck instead of a gift.

Serena’s eyes opened, glassy, wrecked, mascara streaked down to her cheekbones like warpaint from a battle she’d already lost.

Her lips were swollen, red, trembling.

She looked like she’d been crying and fucked and she hadn’t even come yet. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Couldn’t believe she was letting it.

Couldn’t believe she was spreading her legs for the man who’d broken her heart while her wedding ring still sat heavy on her finger.

He didn’t say a word.

Just stared at her like he was memorizing the exact moment she stopped pretending she didn’t still belong to him, body and soul.

Then he kissed her again, slower, dirtier, tongue sliding deep and lazy, licking into her mouth like he owned every inch of it.

She made a tiny, mortified sound, half sob, half moan, and tried to turn her face away, cheeks burning with the shame of how wet she already was, how her thighs were already slick and sticky, how her pussy was throbbing, swollen, dripping for him.

He didn’t let her.

His grip tightened at the back of her neck, gentle but absolute.

Held her right there and kissed her until her hands came up and fisted in his hair just to survive it, until her tongue was sliding against his, desperate and hungry despite every voice in her head screaming this is wrong, ’this is wrong, you’re married, you’re married, you’re his wife, not his anymore.’

When he finally broke the kiss, her breath was a mess, ragged and wet, chest heaving under the ruined lace.

He didn’t give her time to think.

His mouth moved to her jaw, open, wet, filthy kisses, teeth scraping just hard enough to make her gasp. Down the column of her throat, tongue tracing the line where the diamonds dug into her skin.

He sucked hard over her pulse, once, twice, three times, until she felt the bruises bloom hot and perfect and she arched into him with a broken sound she didn’t recognize as her own, hips rolling helplessly.

"Please..." she whispered, not even sure what she was begging for.

Stop.

Don’t stop.

More.

Never stop.

His hands were everywhere, slow and greedy.

One slid down her side, fingers spreading wide over the curve of her waist, digging in just enough to leave faint pink marks she’d see tomorrow and remember exactly who put them there.

The other cupped her breast through the soaked lace, thumb rolling over her nipple until it was a hard, aching point.

She jerked, a soft, embarrassed cry slipping out, tried to cover herself with trembling arms.

He caught both her wrists in one hand, pinned them above her head.

His eyes met hers, black and burning.

Then he lowered his mouth to her breast.

The lace was already ruined, soaked from his mouth earlier, clinging transparent to her skin, nipples dark and visible through it.

He dragged it down slow, exposing her inch by inch, cool air hitting wet skin and making her nipple tighten even more, so hard it hurt.

The first slow, wet lick over the bare peak made her back bow clean off the bed.

He took his time, tongue swirling, lips closing, sucking slow and deep until she was panting, thighs clenching, hips rolling helplessly, pussy throbbing empty and desperate.

He moved to the other breast, gave it the same worship, teeth grazing, tongue flicking, until both nipples were red and swollen and shining with his spit and she was making high, desperate sounds she couldn’t stop, sounds that made her want to die of shame and never stop at the same time.

Only then did he let go of her wrists.

His hands slid down her body like he was mapping every inch he’d missed for months.

Over her ribs, her trembling stomach, fingers spreading wide like he was claiming territory.

He kissed his way down, slow, open-mouthed, wet. Between her breasts, down the center of her chest, tongue dipping into her navel until she squirmed and sobbed, hips lifting off the bed, begging without words.

When he reached the last scrap of lace clinging to her hips, soaked through and useless, he hooked his fingers in and dragged it down slow, so slow she felt every inch of cool air hit her soaked skin, felt the wet fabric peel away from her swollen lips, felt the string of wetness that connected her pussy to the lace for one humiliating second before it broke.

The panties caught on her thighs, then slid free, and he tossed them aside like trash.

Her thighs tried to close, mortified at how wet she was, how the lips of her pussy were swollen and glistening, how her clit was already throbbing, how she could smell herself in the air, thick and sweet and obscene.

He didn’t let her.

Strong hands gripped her knees, pushed them wide, spread her open like a feast.

He looked his fill, eyes dark and hungry, lips wet from kissing her.

She whimpered, turned her face into the pillow, cheeks on fire, fresh tears leaking.

"Look at me," he said, low, rough, the first words since he’d walked in.

She couldn’t.

He waited.

Then his mouth was on her.

The first slow, filthy lick from her entrance to her clit made her scream into the pillow, hips bucking hard. He pinned her down with one forearm across her lower belly, held her still while he devoured her.

Slow.

Worshipful.

Obscene.

His tongue slid through her folds, lapping up every drop like he was starving for it.

He groaned, deep and raw, the vibration rumbling straight through her clit.

Then he spread her wider with his thumbs, opened her completely, and licked inside her, tongue fucking deep and slow, curling, tasting how wet she was for him, how ready, how empty she’d been without him.

She was sobbing now, hips trying to ride his face, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

He pulled back just enough to slide one thick finger inside her, slow, stretching.

She clenched around it instantly, so tight, so wet it made a filthy wet sound that made her want to disappear.

He groaned again, added a second finger, scissored them, curled them, stroked that spot inside that made her see white behind her eyelids.

His mouth closed over her clit and sucked. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Hard.

She came apart with a scream, back arching, thighs clamping around his head, fingers yanking his hair so hard it had to hurt.

He didn’t stop. Kept licking, kept sucking, kept fucking her with his fingers through every pulse, every shudder, drawing it out until she was crying and begging and completely undone, pussy fluttering and gushing around his fingers.

Only when she went limp, chest heaving, pussy fluttering around nothing, did he pull back.

His lips were swollen, shining with her.

He crawled up her body slow, kissing her stomach, sucking bruises into the soft skin under her breasts, biting gently at her nipples again until she whimpered and tried to push him away, too sensitive.

When he reached her mouth, he kissed her deep and dirty, letting her taste herself on his tongue, letting her feel how wet his chin was from her, letting her drown in it.

His hand slid down, wrapped around her wrist, guided it between them.

She froze when her fingers brushed the thick, leaking cock straining against his trousers.

He pressed her hand there, let her feel how hard he was, how hot, how much he wanted her, how he was throbbing for her.

Her breath shook.

A tiny, broken "Devon..." slipped out, half protest, half prayer.

Slowly, he sat back on his heels, unbuttoned, unzipped.

His cock sprang free, thick and flushed dark, the head slick and shining, a thick bead of precum rolling down the slit. Veins stood out along the length, pulsing.

His balls were drawn up tight, heavy, covered in a light sheen of sweat.

He didn’t move.

Serena’s mouth went dry.

Her pussy clenched on nothing, still fluttering from her orgasm.

He took her hand again, wrapped her fingers around him.

Guided her slow, up, down, showing her exactly how he liked it, slow, tight strokes from root to tip, thumb brushing over the head, spreading the slickness. Her touch was shy at first, trembling.

Then braver.

She traced every vein, every ridge, cupped his balls, rolled them gently in her palm until he hissed and his hips jerked forward.

Then he moved her hand away.

Guided her down.

She went willingly, cheeks burning, heart slamming so hard she felt it in her throat.

On her worshipful knees between his thighs, she looked up at him, eyes wide, lips swollen and red, chin still wet from him eating her.

He didn’t push.

She leaned in.

The first slow lick up the underside of his cock made him groan, hand sliding into her hair, fingers threading tight.

She did it again, bolder, tongue swirling around the head, tasting salt and heat and him, lapping up the precum like it was candy.

She took him into her mouth slow, lips stretching wide, cheeks hollowing as she sucked gently, tongue pressing flat against the underside.

He let her play at first.

Let her lick and suck and worship, let her take him deeper inch by inch until he hit the back of her throat and she gagged softly, eyes watering, pulled back with a wet pop, tried again, deeper.

His hand tightened in her hair.

Then he took over.

Slow, steady thrusts into her mouth, not rough, just deep, controlled, letting her feel every inch, letting her choke a little, letting her tears fall.

She moaned around him, the vibration making him curse low and filthy.

Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in as he fucked her mouth slow and filthy, eyes locked on hers the whole time, watching tears leak down her cheeks, watching her take him like she was born for it, like she’d never stopped being his.

When he came, it was with a low, guttural growl, hips stuttering, cock pulsing thick and hot against her tongue.

She swallowed, every drop, throat working, tears streaming, choking a little but taking it all, lips sealed around him until he was spent and shaking.

He pulled her up before she could breathe, flipped her onto her back, spread her thighs wide with his knees.

Looked down at her, naked, trembling, lips swollen, chin wet with spit and cum, eyes completely wrecked, pussy glistening and open and begging.

Then he leaned down, kissed her slow and deep, tasting himself on her tongue, tasting her tears, tasting everything they were and everything they weren’t supposed to be.

When he pulled back, he lined himself up.

The fat, slick head of his cock brushed her entrance, still dripping with her orgasm, still fluttering.

Serena’s breath hitched, a tiny, broken sound.

"No..." she whispered, so soft it was barely air. "I’m sorry, We can’t... I’m married..."

He didn’t answer.

Just pushed in.

Slow.

Relentless.

Inch by thick, throbbing inch.

Stretching her open, filling her so full she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel him splitting her apart in the best, worst, most perfect way.

Until he was buried to the hilt inside her, balls pressed tight against her ass, and she was gasping his name like a prayer, legs wrapped around his waist, nails raking down his back, pussy fluttering and clenching around him like it had been waiting months, years, forever for this exact moment.

And then he started to move.