You barely made it two steps into the safehouse before Jason slammed the door and shoved you face-first against it. His gloved hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so his mouth could scrape hot against your ear.
“Been thinking about this cunt all night,” he growled, voice low and filthy. “Every time I pulled the trigger I pictured you dripping on my cock instead.”
His free hand was already between your legs, yanking your pants and underwear down in one rough tug. Cold air hit your bare skin for half a second before two thick fingers shoved inside you, knuckle-deep and merciless.
“Fuck—Jason—”
“Shut up and take it.” He pumped his fingers hard, the wet sound obscene in the small room. “You’re soaked. Knew you’d be waiting like a good little slut.”
He didn’t bother undressing you properly. Just ripped your shirt open, buttons flying, and shoved your bra up so he could bite down on your nipple while his fingers kept fucking you open. You clawed at the door, legs shaking, but he only laughed against your skin and added a third finger, stretching you wider.
When he finally pulled his hand free you heard his zipper, the rustle of leather, then the blunt head of his cock dragging through your folds. He didn’t tease. He lined up and drove in with one brutal thrust, burying every inch in your cunt until his hips were flush against your ass.
You cried out; he groaned like he’d been starving.
“Goddamn, that’s tight.” He pulled back and slammed in again, setting a punishing rhythm right away. Each thrust shoved you harder into the door. “Gonna fuck you stupid. Gonna make you come so many times you forget your own name.”
His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, yanking you back to meet every snap of his hips. The slap of skin on skin filled the room. He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, rough circles, never slowing the brutal pace of his cock.
“Come on it,” he ordered. “Come on my dick like the needy whore you are.”
You shattered with a broken moan, walls clenching around him. Jason fucked you straight through it, never giving you a second to breathe, chasing his own pleasure with short, vicious thrusts.
He pulled out suddenly, spun you around, and shoved you to your knees. His cock, slick and flushed dark, bobbed in front of your face.
“Open.”
You did. He fed it into your mouth and started fucking your throat, one hand braced on the door, the other holding your hair in a tight ponytail. Spit ran down your chin; you gagged and he only groaned louder.
“Fuck, look at you. Taking it so deep.
Good girl.”
He came with a snarled curse, pulsing hot down your throat. You swallowed every drop while he watched, eyes half-lidded and hungry.
He wasn’t finished.
Jason hauled you up, carried you to the battered couch, and bent you over the arm. He kicked your legs apart and sank back inside you in one smooth stroke, still hard. This time he took his time, rolling his hips in deep, grinding circles that dragged over every sensitive spot inside you.
“Gonna fill this pussy up,” he muttered, voice rough. “Gonna watch it drip out of you for the rest of the night.”
One hand pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned. The other reached under to play with your clit again, slower now but no less insistent. You came again, thighs shaking, and he followed right after, burying himself to the hilt and pumping you full with a low, satisfied groan.
He stayed inside you for a long minute, breathing hard, then pulled out and dropped onto the couch, dragging you with him so you straddled his lap. His fingers scooped up the mess leaking from you and pushed it back inside, lazy and possessive.
“Ride me,” he said, already hardening again beneath you. “Show me how bad you want it.”
You sank down on his cock and started moving, slow at first, then faster as his hands guided your hips. He watched your face the whole time, eyes dark, mouth filthy with praise and orders.
“Faster. Fuck yourself on it. That’s it—good girl. Come again. I want to feel it.”
You did, shaking apart on top of him while he thrust up to meet you. He followed seconds later, adding to the mess inside you with another deep groan.
Later, when you were both wrecked and sprawled across the couch, Jason pulled you against his chest and kissed the top of your head, surprisingly gentle.
“Stay the night,” he muttered. “I’m not done with you yet.”
You smiled against his skin, already feeling the heat building again between your legs.
“Wouldn’t dream of leaving.”
