Jason shoved the safehouse door shut with his boot and yanked you against him before the lock even clicked. "Been thinking about this cunt all night," he growled, voice rough from the helmet filter. His gloved hands ripped your shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. He didn't bother with finesse. He spun you, bent you over the battered table, and yanked your jeans down to your knees in one hard tug.
"Fuck, look at this ass." His palm cracked across one cheek, the sting blooming hot. You heard his zipper, then the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds. No warning, no slow tease. He slammed in deep on the first thrust, burying every inch until his hips met your ass. You gasped at the stretch, walls clenching around him. Jason didn't give you time to adjust. He fucked like he fought, relentless and brutal, each snap of his hips driving you forward on the table.
"Take it," he snarled, one hand fisting your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
The wet slap of skin filled the room. His cock dragged over that spot inside you again and again until your legs shook. You came hard, pussy pulsing around him, but he didn't stop. He just laughed low and fucked you through it, pace never faltering.
When he finally pulled out, it was only to flip you onto your back on the table. He shoved your thighs wide and drove back in, eyes locked on where his cock disappeared into your soaked cunt. "Look at you, dripping all over me. Such a greedy little slut." His thumb found your clit, rubbing rough circles that made you cry out again. He came with a guttural groan, flooding you deep, but stayed hard, grinding through his orgasm until you were oversensitive and whimpering.
Jason pulled you off the table and onto the floor, pushing you to your knees. "Clean it up." You took him in your mouth without hesitation, tasting both of you on his shaft. He fucked your throat in short, controlled thrusts, one hand holding your head steady. Spit ran down your chin. When he pulled back, he hauled you up, bent you over the arm of the couch, and sank back into your cunt from behind.
This round was slower but no less filthy. He talked the whole time, voice low and filthy in your ear. "Gonna fill this pussy again. Gonna make sure you feel me tomorrow when you try to walk." His fingers found your clit once more, and you came with a broken moan, body shuddering. Jason followed right after, pumping another load deep inside.
He didn't pull out right away. Instead he stayed buried, rocking gently, letting you feel every twitch. Eventually he eased out, watching his cum drip down your thighs. "On the bed. We're not done."
You crawled onto the mattress on shaky legs. Jason stripped the rest of the way, scars and ink on full display, and followed you down. He hooked your knees over his shoulders and slid back inside, the angle letting him go even deeper. The pace this time was steady and grinding, each roll of his hips pressing against your clit. Sweat slicked your skin. You clawed at his back, leaving red lines that made him hiss and thrust harder.
"Harder," you begged. He gave it to you, pounding until the headboard slammed the wall. Your third orgasm crashed through you, tighter than the others. Jason buried his face in your neck and came again with a rough curse, hips jerking as he emptied inside you one more time.
He collapsed half on top of you, both of you breathing hard. After a minute he rolled to the side but kept one arm slung over your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. "Stay the night," he muttered against your shoulder. "I'm not finished with you yet."
Outside, Gotham kept screaming, but inside the safehouse the only sounds were your slowing breaths and the occasional creak of the old mattress as Jason pulled you closer, already half-hard again against your thigh. The night was far from over.
