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— a collection of everything she might need—and EVERYTHING she won’t admit she does.

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100-0001–999-9999 , delivered from tokyo

COLLECTIVES +

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01000–08899 , delivered from seoul

COLLECTIVES +

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10000–10999 , delivered from bangkok

COLLECTIVES +

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00001–99950 , delivered from the states

01 EUPHORIA

furry and fucking (nate jacobs) 18+

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LOBBY — “maybe we were never meant to stay in one place.”

tropic — collectives from the centre

west — collectives from the west

northeast — collectives from northeast

east — collectives from the east

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FURY & FUCKING ( 18+ ) , nate jacobs x reader

The bass from the living room thrummed through the floorboards, a deep, insistent pulse that vibrated in the soles of your feet. You leaned against the kitchen counter, the marble cool against your bare back, the cheap plastic cup of warm vodka soda held loosely in your fingers.

Nate's arrival was a vortex of energy, a silent, violent storm that sucked all the air out of the room. He didn't yell, not at first. He just stood there, chest heaving, jaw tight enough to crack teeth, and pointed toward the archway. "Get out," he'd grunted at the cluster of juniors huddled by the island. "Now." They scattered. The space emptied, leaving only the low hum of the refrigerator and the predatory gleam in his eyes as they scanned the wreckage of his party.

That's when they found you. You tilted your head back, draining the last of your drink in one long, practiced gulp, throat working, a single drop of condensation trickling down your chin. You wiped it away with the back of your hand, meeting his glare without an ounce of fear. He was beautiful, in a dangerous, coiled-spring kind of way. All broad shoulders and barely-contained fury. And you were bored. So, so bored.

"The fuck you looking at?" The words were a low growl, meant to intimidate. They didn't. You slowly lowered your cup, setting it on the counter with a deliberate softness that was louder than a shout. You raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a smirk playing on your glossy lips.

"Someone who looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel," you replied, your voice a lazy, confident purr. You pushed off the counter, the tiny triangles of your bikini top doing little more than framing your breasts, the strings digging enticingly into your skin. He watched you move, watched the sway of your hips in the barely-there skirt, and something in his turbulent gaze shifted. The anger was still there, but now it was mixing with something else, something hot and appraising. He saw the challenge in your eyes, the slight part of your lips, and it was exactly what he needed. Not a victim, not another problem to solve. Someone who met his fire with their own.

"Brave little thing, aren't you?" he scoffed, but he didn't move away as you closed the distance between you, stopping just inside his personal space. You could smell the chlorine on him, the faint hint of his cologne, something clean and expensive trying to mask the scent of betrayal.

"Brave? Nah," you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him.

"Just realistic. I figure either you're going to yell some more, or you're going to do something interesting. I'm rooting for option B." You let your eyes drag down his body, slow and deliberate, before flicking back up to meet his.

"What's the matter? Girlfriend find someone better to hold her breath underwater?" You saw the flash of genuine hurt in his eyes, quickly buried under another layer of rage, and you knew you'd hit the bullseye.

"You've got a smart mouth," he snarled, a large hand shooting out to wrap around your arm. His grip was firm, possessive, a clear warning.

"It's gonna get you in trouble." You laughed, a low, breathy sound that made his fingers tighten.

"Promises, promises," you taunted, leaning in slightly. Your free hand came up to rest on the hard plane of his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under your palm.

"Or is that all talk? Because from where I'm standing, you look like a man who needs to fuck the anger out of his system before he does something stupid. And I'm feeling charitable tonight." The raw, unfiltered audacity of it hung in the air between you. It was the final push. The dam broke.

"Upstairs," Nate bit out, the word a command. He didn't drag you, not exactly. It was more like he propelled you, a firm, unyielding pressure on your arm as he cut a path through the lingering partygoers. You went willingly, a triumphant smirk on your face. He shoved open the door to what must have been his bedroom, kicking it shut behind you.

The room was dark, the only light a pale sliver of moon filtering through the blinds, striping the messy floor. You barely had a second to take it in before he was on you, backing you up against the door, his body pinning yours. His mouth crashed down on yours, a punishing, hungry kiss that tasted of mint and fury. It wasn't gentle; it was a claiming.

His hands were everywhere, one tangling in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat, the other ripping at the flimsy string of your bikini top. It gave way with a snap. He growled his approval against your lips, his teeth scraping your lower lip as his palm cupped your bare breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it pebbled into a tight, aching point. You met his intensity with your own, your hands fumbling with the button of his jeans, shoving them down his hips along with his boxers. He was already hard, thick and heavy against your stomach, and the sheer size of him sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight through you.

"Fuck me," you demanded against his mouth, your voice breathy and raw.

"Or get the hell out of my way." That was all it took. He hooked an arm under your thigh, lifting you effortlessly. Your skirt was shoved up around your waist, the scrap of fabric of your bottoms pulled aside with one rough tug. He drove into you in one brutal, deep stroke that stole the air from your lungs.

There was no finesse, no preamble. It was exactly what you both needed—a raw, primal act. He set a punishing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin, your ragged moans, and his low grunts filling the room. His hands gripped your ass, holding you open for his relentless thrusts. You clawed at his back, your legs wrapped tight around his waist, urging him deeper, harder. The anger fueled him, but it was your defiance that stoked the fire. You looked him dead in the eye as he fucked you against the door, your gaze a blatant challenge.

"That all you got?" you panted, a wicked grin splitting your face. A dark, feral sound rumbled in his chest. He pulled out, spinning you around and shoving you face-first against the wood. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface as he kicked your feet apart. He entered you from behind, even deeper this angle, one hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head swim.

"Is this better?" he gritted out, his other hand snaking around to find your clit, rubbing rough, tight circles that had you seeing stars. You couldn't answer, could only moan and push back against him, taking every inch he had to give.

He was fucking her like he meant to break her. Like he could drive the memory of whoever had hurt him straight out of his body and into hers with every punishing thrust. The door rattled in its frame with their combined force. His grip on her throat was firm, controlling, not choking, but the threat of it was a live wire in the room. His other hand worked her clit with a rough, focused rhythm, his fingers slick with her own wetness.

“You like that?” Nate snarled into her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “You like getting fucked like a slut against the door?”

She couldn’t form words, only a guttural moan that was part pain, part unbelievable pleasure. The angle was deep, so deep she felt him in her fucking throat. Her own fingers scrambled against the wood, nails digging for purchase. “Fuck,” she finally gasped. “Yes. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound, and his thumb pressed harder on her clit. “Wasn’t planning on it.” His hips pistoned, a relentless, mechanical drive. The slap of his balls against her skin was a wet, rhythmic beat underneath the creak of the door. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her sweaty back, and his mouth found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make her cry out. “Gonna make you come all over my cock,” he promised, his words a hot, filthy murmur against her skin. “Gonna feel that tight little cunt squeeze me until I lose my fucking mind.”

His dirty talk was as raw and unfiltered as the rest of him. It wasn’t poetic. It was a direct, vulgar narration of exactly what was happening to her body, and it made her burn. Her own arousal was a slick, hot flood between her legs, making every thrust a little easier, a little messier. She could feel the thick, veined length of him stretching her perfectly, the swollen head of his cock rubbing a spot inside her that made her vision blur.

“Nate,” she panted, her cheek mashed against the door. “Right there… fuck, just like that. Your cock… it’s so fucking big.”

He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest and into her back. “Tell me,” he demanded, his pace never faltering. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“It feels like you’re splitting me open,” she gasped, the words tumbling out in a desperate, honest stream. “I can feel every fucking inch. You’re so deep. I can feel you in my stomach.” She pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. “Fuck me harder. I want to feel it tomorrow.”

With a growl, he obliged. His hand left her clit and slapped down on her ass, a sharp, stinging crack that made her jolt and cry out. The pain bloomed into heat, mingling with the pleasure coiling tight in her belly. He gripped the cheek he’d just smacked, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling her apart to watch himself disappear into her.

“Look at that,” he breathed, his rhythm slowing for a moment, becoming almost hypnotic as he pulled almost all the way out. In the dim light, she could feel his gaze on her exposed flesh. Her pussy lips, swollen and glistening, were stretched wide around the base of his cock. They clung to him, a slick, pink embrace. He pushed back in, slow and torturous, letting her feel every ridge, every thick inch. “Your cunt’s fucking beautiful. Soaked. It’s sucking me right back in.”

He began to fuck her again, but differently now. Still deep, still hard, but with a grinding roll of his hips at the end of each thrust, making sure the head of his cock massaged that perfect, aching spot inside her. His hand returned to her clit, his touch somehow more precise, more demanding.

“I’m gonna come,” she warned, her voice a high, thin whine. The tension was a knot at the base of her spine, winding tighter and tighter with every drag of his cock.

“Come,” he ordered, his own control starting to fray, his thrusts becoming erratic, harder. “Come on my fucking cock. Let me feel it.”

It crashed over her like a physical blow. Her whole body locked, a silent scream stuck in her throat for one endless second before her cunt clenched around him in a series of violent, fluttering spasms. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure radiated out from her core, making her legs shake and her toes curl. A choked, broken sound finally escaped her lips as she came, her inner muscles milking his length desperately.

The sensation of her climax clamping down on him was his undoing. With a raw, torn shout, Nate buried himself to the hilt and held there, his body rigid against hers. She felt the hot, sudden pulse of his release deep inside her, a thick, urgent flood that seemed to go on and on. Each jet of his cum painted her inner walls, a scalding, intimate claim. He groaned, long and low, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he emptied himself, his hsips giving shallow, involuntary jerks against her ass.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the distant thump of music from below. He was still inside her, still hard, still dripping. His hand on her throat loosened, becoming a gentle, almost possessive cradle. He turned her head slightly, his lips brushing her ear.

“Still bored?” he murmured, his voice a wrecked, husky thing.

She let out a breathless, sated laugh, her body humming. “Getting there.”

He pulled out slowly, and she felt the immediate, sensitive ache of her well-used pussy, along with the warm trickle of his cum starting to slide down her inner thigh. He turned her around to face him, his eyes black in the shadows, studying her face. His cock, still semi-hard and slick with their mixed fluids, jutted out between them. He didn’t look angry anymore. He looked hungry. Satisfied, but hungry for more.

“Bed,” he said, the single word leaving no room for argument. He didn’t wait for a reply, his hands sliding down to grip her ass, lifting her easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist again, feeling the sticky wetness between them as he carried her the few steps and dropped her onto the rumpled sheets. The mattress smelled like—clean cotton, expensive cologne, and now, unmistakably, of sex.

He stood over her, his gaze roaming her naked body. Her tits were marked from his earlier roughness, her nipples hard and peaked. Her pussy was a swollen, glistening mess. He looked utterly captivated. He crawled onto the bed, hovering over her, bracing himself on his elbows. “Round two,” he stated, his voice a low promise. “And this time, I’m going to taste what I just fucked.”

The air in the room was thick with the smell of sweat and sex. Nate’s weight lifted off her, and she sank into the mattress, her body buzzing, her pussy still throbbing from his brutal fuck. He was staring at her, his dark eyes tracing the mess he’d made of her body. Her tits were flushed, her nipples dark and stiff. Between her legs, his cum was a warm, sticky pool.

She watched him move. He shifted on the bed, kneeling beside her, his cock now standing proud, wet and gleaming. It was a thick, heavy thing, the shaft a deep, flushed red, veined and powerful. The head was swollen, a darker, purplish cap slick with her juices and his own release.

“You look fucking ruined,” Nate said, his hand reaching out to stroke her stomach, his fingers trailing through the sweat.

“I feel fucking ruined,” she replied, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. “And I want more.”

His answering grin was sharp, predatory. “More?”

“You promised you’d taste me,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “But I have a better idea.”

Nate’s eyebrow lifted. “Do you?”

She didn’t wait for permission. She moved, rolling onto her side, then pushing herself up. Her body felt loose, pliant, but a new energy was crackling through her veins. She put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back until he was sitting against the headboard. “Stay there.”

He watched her, curiosity and that raw hunger burning in his gaze. “Taking control?”

“Just a little,” she murmured, crawling over him. She straddled his lap, but instead of facing him, she turned, presenting her back to him. She settled on her knees, her ass hovering just above his thighs. She leaned forward, planting her hands on the mattress, arching her back until her spine was a long, graceful curve. “Look at me.”

From this position, Nate had a perfect, unobstructed view. Her ass was two firm, rounded cheeks, still pink from his slap. Between them, her pussy was a glistening, swollen slit, lips parted and dark. And above it, nestled in the shadowy crease, was her asshole—a small, tight, puckered ring of skin.

She heard his breath catch. It wasn’t a hitch, just a sharp intake.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“You said you wanted to taste,” she said, her voice muffled against the sheets. “So taste. But not there.” She shifted her hips slightly, emphasizing the other target. “There.”

Nate’s hands came up, his palms hot and rough on the cool skin of her ass cheeks. He spread them, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh, pulling her apart. The exposure was intense, vulnerable. She felt the cool air of the room on her most private places. She felt his gaze, a physical heat.

“Your cunt is dripping,” he observed, his voice thick. “My cum is running down your thigh.” One thumb swept through the wetness, collecting it, then smearing it upwards, over her pussy lips, towards her asshole. The sensation was filthy and electric. “But this… this is clean. Tight. Pretty.”

She shivered. “It’s yours if you want it.”

His answer was a low, possessive growl. He leaned forward. She felt his breath first, a warm exhale against that hypersensitive skin. Then, the blunt, wet tip of his tongue.

It wasn’t a gentle lick. It was a firm, deliberate press. The flat of his tongue swiped over her entire asshole, a broad, wet stroke that made her gasp and push her ass back towards his face. He did it again, slower, tracing the tight circle, feeling the muscle resist then relax under his pressure.

“Fuck,” she moaned, her hands clutching the sheets.

Nate didn’t reply with words. He replied with action. His tongue pointed, becoming a rigid, probing instrument. He pressed it against the center of her asshole, a steady, insistent pressure that didn’t enter, but promised entry. He circled it, teasing the rim, his saliva making the skin slick and shiny. Then he pulled back and spat, a deliberate, wet sound, and a fresh layer of wetness coated her.

“You want this?” he asked, his voice muffled against her skin.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you to lick my fucking asshole, Nate. I want you to get it wet and open for your cock.”

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. His tongue returned, more aggressive now. It pushed, not just pressed. The tip breached the tight ring, a shallow, incredible invasion. The sensation was unlike anything else—an intense, focused pressure on a nerve-rich area that had never been touched like this. She cried out, her hips rocking, seeking more.

Nate held her open, his thumbs keeping her cheeks spread wide. His tongue worked in and out, shallow little fuck-motions that made her whole body tense. He was getting her ready, softening her, making her accept him. The wet, sloppy sounds were obscene, and the feeling was overwhelming. It wasn’t just physical; it was psychological. The submission, the vulnerability, the sheer nastiness of it sent sparks through her brain.

“So fucking tight,” he murmured, pulling back to look at his work. Her asshole was glistening, relaxed, visibly wetter and more open than before. “Think you can take me?”

She pushed her ass back again, a clear invitation. “Try.”

Nate’s hands shifted. One stayed on her ass cheek, spreading her. The other moved to his cock. He gripped it at the base, his fingers slick with their mixed fluids. He guided the head, pressing the swollen tip not against her pussy, but higher, against the slick, prepared ring of her asshole.

The contact was a shock. The difference in texture, in sensation, was immediate. Her pussy was soft, yielding, familiar. This was tight, resistant, a thrilling unknown. The head of his cock was broad, and it felt huge against that tiny entrance.

“Easy,” Nate whispered, more to himself than to her. He applied pressure, a slow, relentless push. The muscle resisted, then gave way with a soft, internal pop. The head of his cock slipped inside, just the first thick inch.

She screamed. It wasn’t a scream of pain, but of overwhelming, intense sensation. It was a burning stretch, a fullness that went deeper than her cunt. Her body clenched around him instinctively, which only made the feeling more acute.

“Shit,” Nate groaned, his hand tightening on her ass. “You feel that?”

“I feel it,” she gasped, her voice strained. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He pushed forward, another inch, a slow, torturous invasion. His cock was a solid, unyielding column of heat spreading her apart internally. It was so much tighter than her pussy, the friction so much more intense. Every millimeter of progress was a battle, a conquest. He worked his way in, his breath coming in ragged bursts against her back.

“Your ass is swallowing my cock,” he said, his voice rough with awe. “It’s so fucking hot. I can see it. I can feel it squeezing me.”

She was panting, her face buried in the sheets. The initial burn was fading, replaced by a deep, spreading fullness that was sparking a different kind of pleasure. It was raw, it was taboo, it was fucking incredible.

Nate got another inch in, then another. He was halfway now, his cock buried deep in her ass, a thick, burning presence. He paused, letting her adjust, his hand stroking her back.

“You okay?” he asked, the question surprisingly gentle amidst the filth.

“Fuck yes,” she managed. “Move. Please, Nate, move.”

He pulled back, a slow withdrawal that made her gasp at the sensation of his cock dragging through her tight channel. Then he pushed back in, a smooth, deep stroke. He set a rhythm, slow and careful at first, each thrust a deliberate, profound fuck. The sounds were different here—a wet, tight squelch, the slap of his balls against her soaked pussy below.

“God, your ass is so good,” Nate moaned, his control slipping. His thrusts became harder, faster. He was fucking her ass now, properly fucking it, his hips driving forward with a force that shook her whole body. His hand on her ass cheek moved, his fingers digging in, holding her open so he could watch himself disappear into her.

The angle was deep, perfect. Each thrust sent a shockwave through her, a mixture of intense pressure and a weird, thrilling pleasure that was building in her core alongside the ache. Her pussy, neglected now, was throbbing, empty and wanting, which only heightened the sensation in her ass.

His free hand slid down, his fingers finding her swollen, wet pussy lips. He didn’t tease. He pushed two fingers inside her cunt, a sudden, welcome fullness that made her cry out. He fucked her with his fingers, matching the rhythm of his cock in her ass. The dual penetration was overwhelming. Her body was split open, filled in two places, each sensation competing and combining into a tidal wave of need.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” Nate growled, his fingers curling inside her cunt, finding her clit with his thumb. He rubbed it, hard and fast, a rough counterpoint to the deep, pounding rhythm of his cock in her ass. “I’m fucking your ass and your cunt at the same time. You feel that? You feel how full you are?”

She couldn’t speak. She could only moan, a continuous, high-pitched sound of absolute surrender. Her orgasm was building, a coil of pressure winding tight around her spine, fed from both sides. The pleasure was a twisted, complex thing—the brutal fullness in her ass, the familiar, urgent friction in her cunt, the rough stimulation of her clit.

Nate’s thrusts became frantic, his own climax approaching. His cock in her ass felt thicker, harder, like it was swelling. His fingers in her cunt pumped faster.

“I’m gonna come in your ass,” he warned, his voice a ragged scrape. “I’m gonna fill you up. You want that?”

“Yes! Do it, Nate, fucking do it!”

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the root in her ass and held there. His body locked, and she felt the first hot, thick jet of his cum burst deep inside her. It was a scalding flood, a sensation so intimate and filthy it tipped her over the edge. Her own orgasm exploded, a violent, shaking release that clenched both her ass around his cock and her cunt around his fingers. She screamed into the mattress, her body convulsing under him, waves of pleasure crashing through her so hard she saw white spots in her vision.

Nate groaned, long and deep, as he emptied himself into her ass, each pulse of his release a hot, claiming gift. He stayed there, planted deep, until the last shudder passed through him. Then, slowly, he pulled out. The sensation of his cock leaving her ass was a slow, tender ache, followed by the feeling of his cum beginning to seep out.

He pulled his fingers from her cunt, and she collapsed forward, her body spent, trembling. Nate fell back onto the bed beside her, breathing hard. For a minute, there was only silence and the heavy scent of their sex.

Then, she moved.

The exhaustion was there, a deep physical drain, but underneath it was a simmering, triumphant energy. She had taken his anger, his dominance, and she had given him something new, something raw. And now, she wanted something for herself.

She rolled over, facing him. Nate was lying on his back, his eyes closed, his cock now soft and wet against his stomach. She crawled over to him, her movements slow but deliberate.

“My turn,” she said, her voice husky but firm.

Nate opened one eye, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your turn?”

“You fucked me. I’m gonna fuck you.

He laughed, a short, surprised sound. “Alright.”

She didn’t wait for more permission. She straddled his hips, but this time she faced him. His cock lay between them, soft but still impressive. She reached down, taking it in her hand. It was warm, heavy, slick with sweat and his cum from her ass. She stroked it, from base to tip, her touch firm and knowing.

“You’re going to get hard for me again,” she stated, leaning down. She didn’t kiss him. She put her mouth on his cock.

She started at the base, licking the length of him, tasting herself and him—a salty, musky, deeply sexual flavor. She worked her way up, her tongue tracing the veins, circling the head. She sucked the tip into her mouth, letting her saliva mix with the existing wetness. Nate’s breath stuttered. He watched her, his dark eyes fixed on her face as she serviced his cock.

She sucked him with purpose, not just to please him, but to claim him. Her mouth was hot, wet, demanding. She used her tongue to press against the sensitive underside, she used her lips to create tight pressure. She took him deeper, her head bobbing, her hand working the base in tandem with her mouth. She could feel him responding, the flesh thickening and hardening under her attention. Within minutes, he was fully erect again, a hard, throbbing column in her mouth and hand.

“Good,” she murmured, pulling off with a pop. She looked up at him, his cock glistening with her spit. “Now you’re ready.”

She shifted, rising up on her knees. She guided his cock, positioning it at her entrance. Her pussy was sore, wet, messy, but it was hers, and she wanted him in it again, but this time, she was driving.

She lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her in one smooth, controlled motion. The feeling of fullness was immediate, a deep, welcome ache. She sat down fully, his cock buried to the hilt inside her cunt, and she let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Look at me,” she commanded.

Nate’s eyes were locked on hers, a mix of shock and intense arousal. He was letting her lead.

She started to move. She rose up, almost letting him slip out, then sank back down, a slow, grinding descent. She set a rhythm, a deliberate, powerful ride. Her hands planted on his chest, her fingers digging into his muscles. She used her thighs, her core, every muscle in her body to control the fuck. She rolled her hips as she took him, making sure the head of his cock rubbed against the deepest, most sensitive parts of her.

“This is my cock now,” she said, her voice low and confident as she moved. “I’m going to ride it until I come again. And you’re going to watch me.”

Nate’s hands came up to her hips, not to control, but to feel, to guide. “Fucking do it,” he urged, his voice rough. “Your cunt feels amazing. So wet. So tight around me.”

She sped up, her movements becoming more urgent. The pleasure was building again, a fresh coil tightening inside her. The angle was different now, the control was different. She could feel every inch of him, and she could manipulate exactly how he touched her. She leaned forward, changing the angle, and a bolt of sharp pleasure made her cry out.

“Right there,” she moaned, circling her hips on that spot. “Your cock is hitting me right fucking there.”

Nate’s thumbs dug into her hip bones. “I can see it,” he said, his gaze dropping to where they were joined. Her pussy was swallowing his cock, lips stretched wide, glistening and dark. “I can see you taking me. You’re so fucking sexy.”

She rode him harder, faster, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The bed shook under them. Her tits bounced, her skin flushed. She was a picture of pure, selfish pleasure, and Nate was riveted.

“I’m gonna come,” she announced, her voice rising. “I’m gonna come on your cock, Nate. You’re going to feel me squeeze you.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his own hips starting to thrust upwards to meet her, a subtle betrayal of his need for control.

She ignored it, focusing on her own rhythm, her own peak. The tension snapped. Her orgasm this time was a soaring, triumphant wave. It crashed through her, making her shout, her cunt clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, desperate pulses. She ground down on him, milking him through her climax, her body shaking with the intensity.

As her waves subsided, she felt him tense beneath her. His control broke. His hips bucked, driving up into her with a few final, frantic thrusts.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” he groaned, his hands gripping her ass hard.

She felt the hot burst inside her, another flood of his cum filling her already soaked cunt. She kept moving, riding him through it, slowing to a gentle rock as he emptied himself.

When he finished, they were both panting, slick with sweat, tangled together. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest, his cock still inside her.

After a moment, she lifted herself off him, his cock slipping out with a soft, wet sound. She didn’t collapse. She knelt beside him on the bed, her energy still buzzing. Nate’s cock lay on his stomach, wet, glistening, and utterly spent.

She looked at it, then at his face. He was watching her, a deep, satisfied exhaustion in his eyes, but also a curiosity.

“Not done,” she said softly.

The silence was thick, a warm blanket draped over their exhausted bodies. Nate’s hand lay heavy on her hip, his fingers splayed across her skin. She could feel his heartbeat slowing against her back where she’d curled into him. The air was still musky with sex, with sweat, with the raw smell of their bodies pushed to the limit.

Her tongue had left his cock clean, but the rest of them was a mess. She felt the sticky trails of cum on her thigh, the slick sweat cooling on her stomach. Her asshole was tender, a deep, pulsing ache that felt oddly satisfying. Her pussy was swollen, sensitive, and utterly soaked.

Nate’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. She thought he might be asleep.

“You’re sticky,” she murmured, her voice a low rasp in the quiet room.

He stirred, his hand tightening slightly on her hip. “You’re sticky.”

“I can feel your cum leaking out of my ass.” She said it bluntly, a dirty fact stated in the aftermath. “It’s running down my fucking thigh.”

Nate’s breath came out in a soft, amused huff. “Good.”

She shifted, turning to face him. The dim light from the blinds cut across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark smudge of his eyebrows. His eyes were open, watching her. They weren’t angry anymore. They were calm. Satisfied. Hungry still, but a different kind of hunger.

“We need a shower,” she said.

“We do,” he agreed. His voice was rough, worn out from grunts and groans and filthy promises.

He didn’t move first. She did. She pushed herself up, her muscles protesting, her body feeling used and magnificent. She stood, her legs a little unsteady, and looked down at him. He was sprawled on the bed, naked, glorious. His cock lay soft against his thigh, a testament to the hours they’d spent. She felt a possessive pride looking at him. She’d taken that anger, that coiled fury, and she’d fucked it into something else.

“Come on,” she said, reaching down to grab his hand.

He took it, his grip strong even in his lethargy. He stood, his taller frame looming over her. They were both a mess. Sweat gleamed on his chest, on the hard planes of his stomach. Her own skin was marked—the red imprint of his hand on her ass, the faint bruises from his grip on her hips, the bite mark on her shoulder. They were trophies.

He followed her out of the bedroom, down the hall to the bathroom. His house was quiet now, the party long gone, the bass silenced. The bathroom was spacious, clean, masculine. A large glass-walled shower stood in the corner.

She walked in, turning on the taps. The water burst from the overhead rainfall showerhead, a hot, steady stream that quickly filled the space with steam. She stepped under it first, the heat hitting her skin like a blessing. It washed over her face, her shoulders, her sore tits. She closed her eyes, letting it run down her body.

Nate stepped in behind her. The shower wasn’t huge, and his presence immediately crowded the space. His body pressed against hers, his front to her back. The water sluiced over them both, mixing the sweat and cum and slickness into a single, warm river that ran down their skin.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing the tense muscles there. “You’re fucking incredible,” he said, his mouth close to her ear.

She leaned back into him, her head resting against his chest. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His hands slid down, over her back, tracing the curve of her spine. They came to rest on her ass, his palms covering the cheeks he’d slapped, held open, fucked. His touch was different now. Not demanding. Almost… appreciative.

“Look at you,” he murmured. He turned her gently in his arms, facing her towards him. The water poured over them, steam rising around their faces. His eyes traveled over her body, taking in every detail under the clear, hot stream. Her tits were full, her nipples dark and stiff from the cold air and now the hot water. The bite mark on her shoulder was a clear, red crescent. Between her legs, her pussy was a swollen, pink flower, her lips parted slightly, her clit visibly prominent. His cum was gone from her thighs, washed away, but the evidence of their fucking was still there in the sensitivity, in the look of her.

“Look at you,” she countered, her own gaze dropping. His cock hung between his legs, heavy even in its soft state. It was thick, the shaft a long, veined column of flesh that she knew could turn into a weapon of pleasure. The head was broad, a darker cap. Water ran over it, dripping from the tip. His balls were full, hanging low. His body was a map of power—broad shoulders, defined chest, the cut of his abs.

She reached out, her hand not going to his cock, but to his stomach. She traced the lines of muscle there, her fingers following the water’s path. “You’re built like you’re meant to fuck,” she said, her voice a low, honest observation.

Nate smiled, a real smile, not a predatory smirk. It transformed his face. “I fucking am.”

His hands came up to her tits. He cupped them, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. The touch was gentle, exploratory, compared to the rough handling earlier. The heat of the water made her skin hyper-sensitive. Her nipples hardened further under his touch, a sharp, aching pleasure shooting straight to her core.

“These are perfect,” he said, his voice dropping. “So fucking full. I love how they fit in my hands.” He squeezed gently, then harder, testing her response. She gasped, her back arching slightly. “You like that?”

“I like anything you do,” she replied, and it wasn’t a lie. In this moment, in this steam-filled box with the water washing away the grime, she did.

He leaned down, his mouth replacing his hands. He didn’t kiss her lips. He kissed her tits. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling it, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. The sensation was electric, a direct line to her already-awakened pussy. She moaned, her hands coming up to grip his head, holding him there. He sucked hard, then switched to the other, giving it the same attention. The water poured over his back, over her hands, mixing with the saliva on her skin.

He pulled back, his mouth wet, his eyes locked on hers. “I want to taste you again,” he said. “Everywhere.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He knelt in the shower, the water cascading over his shoulders, his back. He was on his knees before her, his face level with her stomach. His hands went to her hips, holding her steady. He looked up at her, his dark eyes burning with a new intention.

“Open your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm.

She did, widening her stance, giving him access. The water ran down her inner thighs, into the cleft between her legs. Nate’s gaze was fixed there, on her pussy, now clean but still visibly used.

He leaned in. His nose brushed her pubic bone, his breath hot against her wet skin. He didn’t rush. He studied her, like she was a painting. Her pussy lips were parted, the inner folds a darker pink, glistening under the water. Her clit was a small, hard bead, protruding proudly. The trimmed hair around it was wet, clinging to her skin.

“So pretty,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his tongue touched her.

It wasn’t a lick. It was a press. The flat of his tongue covered her entire slit, a broad, warm stroke that made her shudder. He lapped at her, collecting the water, the remnants of their sex, her own natural taste. He did it slowly, methodically, like he was savoring a meal. His tongue traced her outer lips, then dipped between them, exploring the entrance.

“You’re still so wet inside,” he said, his voice muffled against her flesh. He pushed his tongue deeper, into her opening. It was a shallow penetration, but the feeling was intense. The hot water, his hot tongue, the slickness—it was a sensory overload. She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into his wet skin.

“Fuck, Nate,” she breathed.

He pulled back, then focused. His tongue pointed, becoming a rigid, probing instrument. He found her clit and zeroed in on it. He circled it, his movements precise and relentless. The pressure was perfect—not too rough, not too soft. It was a targeted, wet assault that made her hips jerk forward.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his hands holding her hips firmly. “Let me taste you. Let me make you come in my mouth.”

He sucked her clit into his mouth, his lips forming a tight seal around the sensitive nerve bundle. He sucked, hard, his tongue flicking against it. The dual sensation—the suction and the tongue—sent a bolt of pleasure straight up her spine. She cried out, her head falling back, her eyes closing against the steam and the water.

He worked her with his mouth, a dedicated, filthy worship. He licked, he sucked, he probed. His tongue dipped into her hole again, then returned to her clit. He was mapping her, learning her, tasting every part of her pussy under the streaming water. The sounds were obscene—the wet lapping, her moans, the constant rush of the shower.

Her legs began to shake. The orgasm was building, a tight, hot coil in her belly. It was different from the frantic, pounding climaxes they’d had before. This was slower, deeper, a rising tide of pleasure fed by his unwavering focus.

“I’m gonna come,” she gasped, her voice shaky.

“Come,” he ordered, his mouth not leaving her. “Come on my fucking tongue. Let me drink it.”

His words, so vulgar, so direct, pushed her over. The climax broke, a wave of pure, liquid heat that washed through her. It wasn’t a violent shaking; it was a deep, pulsing release that made her thighs tremble and her pussy clamp around nothing. She felt her own wetness increase, a fresh flood of arousal that Nate lapped up eagerly, his tongue drinking her in as she came.

He stayed there, his mouth on her, until the last pulse faded. Then he pulled back, looking up at her. His face was wet, his lips shiny. He looked triumphant.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he said, rising to his feet. He kissed her then, his mouth meeting hers, and she tasted herself on his lips—a salty, musky, intimate flavor. The kiss was deep, hungry, a continuation of the act.

When he broke the kiss, his hands went to her ass again. “Turn around,” he said.

She turned, facing the shower wall. Nate’s body pressed against her from behind, his cock now hard again, nudging against her lower back. His hands spread her ass cheeks, just like before. The water ran down the cleft, over her tender asshole.

“I want to fuck you here again,” he said, his voice a hot whisper in her ear. “In the shower. With the water running over us.”

Her heart thumped. The idea was filthy, thrilling. Her ass was still sore, still sensitive from his earlier invasion, but the memory of that deep, stretching pleasure was fresh.

“Okay,” she breathed.

He didn’t need more. His cock was hard, a thick, eager presence against her skin. He reached down, guiding himself. The head pressed against her asshole, which was still relaxed, still wet from his previous attention and now from the shower water.

He pushed. The head breached her easily, the initial pop of entry less shocking this time, but still a profound sensation of invasion. She gasped, her hands flattening against the cool shower wall. Nate’s hands held her hips, steadying her.

He entered her slowly, millimeter by millimeter. The feeling was a deep, burning stretch, a fullness that went beyond her pussy. The water ran over them, slicking the passage, making it easier but also amplifying the sensation. She could feel the thick ridge of his cock pushing into her, spreading her internally. It was tight, so tight, but the warm water and the memory of pleasure made it welcome.

“Your ass is so fucking tight,” Nate groaned, his voice strained with control. He was holding himself back, forcing a slow, deliberate penetration. “I can feel you taking me. I can see it.” He was watching, his gaze fixed on where his cock was disappearing into her body. Her ass cheeks were spread wide by his hands, giving him a perfect view.

He got halfway in, then paused. “You good?”

“Fuck yes,” she moaned, pushing her ass back against him, urging him deeper. “Give me all of it.”

He pushed forward, another inch, another. The friction was incredible, a hot, slow drag inside her that sparked a deep, confusing pleasure. Her pussy, untouched now, throbbed with sympathetic need.

When he was fully in, buried to the root, he stopped. He held there, his body pressed against hers, the water pouring over them both. He was inside her ass, a solid, claiming presence. He leaned over her, his mouth near her ear.

“This is mine now,” he said, his voice a low, possessive growl. “This tight little hole. I’m going to fuck it whenever I want.”

She couldn’t speak. The fullness was overwhelming. She could only nod, her cheek pressed against the shower wall.

He began to move. He pulled back, a slow withdrawal that made her feel every inch of his cock dragging through her tight channel. Then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deep. He set a rhythm, a measured, profound fuck. Each thrust was a deliberate conquest. The water made the sounds wetter, slicker, the slap of his balls against her skin muffled by the stream.

“You feel that?” he asked, his hands tightening on her hips. “You feel my cock in your ass?”

“I feel it,” she gasped. “It’s so deep.”

“It’s fucking deep,” he agreed, his thrusts starting to speed up, gaining intensity. The slow, careful pace began to shift into something more urgent. His control was slipping. The pleasure was building for him too.

His hands moved from her hips to her tits. He reached around, cupping them from behind, his fingers finding her nipples. He pinched them, rolled them, his touch rough and demanding even as his cock fucked her ass. The dual stimulation—the deep penetration and the rough handling of her tits—sent her mind spinning.

Nate’s thrusts became harder, faster. He was fucking her ass properly now, his hips driving forward with a force that shook her body even against the shower wall. The water splashed around them, steam rising in clouds.

“I’m gonna come in your ass again,” he warned, his voice ragged. “I’m gonna fill you up. You want that?”

“Yes! Do it, Nate, fucking do it!”

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the root and held there. His body locked, and she felt the first hot, thick jet of his cum burst deep inside her. It was a scalding flood, a sensation so intimate and filthy it tipped her over the edge. Her own orgasm exploded, a violent, shaking release that clenched both her ass around his cock and her cunt around his fingers. She screamed, her voice echoing in the tiled shower, her body convulsing against him, waves of pleasure crashing through her so hard her vision blurred.

Nate groaned, long and deep, as he emptied himself into her ass, each pulse of his release a hot, claiming gift. He stayed there, planted deep, until the last shudder passed through him. Then, slowly, he pulled out. The sensation of his cock leaving her ass was a slow, tender ache, followed by the feeling of his cum beginning to seep out, mixing with the shower water.

She slumped forward, her forehead resting against the shower wall, her body spent, trembling. Nate stood behind her, breathing hard, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. The water continued to pour over them, washing away the fresh sweat, the new cum.

After a moment, he turned her around to face him. Her body was limp, her eyes half-closed. He looked at her, his expression a mix of awe and possession.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She managed a weak smile. “You’re a fucking beast.”

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