Read Novel Full Chapter 1244 Simple
Chapter 1244: Chapter 1244 Simple
Ross’ hands—still slick with oil—moved to his belt. The metal buckle clinked softly as he undid it, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
He popped the button of his pants next, dragged the zipper down with deliberate slowness, the rasp of teeth parting like a promise.
Anita’s breathing hitched again; she hadn’t lifted her head from the cushion, but her body had gone still, attuned to every movement behind her.
He shoved the waistband down over his hips in one smooth motion.
His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, already fully erect—and slapped audibly against the taut plane of his lower abdomen before settling forward, pointing straight at her like a weapon.
Fifteen inches.
Thick as her wrist at the base, veined prominently along the shaft, the head flushed dark and glistening with a bead of pre-cum that caught the low lamplight.
It bobbed once with his pulse, impossibly rigid, curving just slightly upward toward the swollen crown.
The sheer size of it seemed to pull all the oxygen from the room; Anita felt the air leave her lungs in a soft, involuntary gasp.
She finally turned her head, cheek still pressed to the leather, eyes widening as they locked on him.
“Oh… my god…” The words slipped out—barely a whisper, half awe, half fear.
Ross didn’t stroke himself. He didn’t need to.
He simply stood there, letting her look—letting the reality of it sink in.
His hands returned to her hips instead, thumbs brushing slow, soothing circles over the oiled skin of her ass while his cock hovered inches from her still-covered entrance.
The heat radiating off him was palpable; she could feel it against the damp crotch of her panties like a brand.
“See what you do to me?” His voice was low, gravel-rough, almost reverent. “All this time touching you… feeling how wet you are… how you open up for my fingers… and this is what happens.”
Anita swallowed hard. Her pussy clenched emptily at the sight—fresh slickness seeping through the lace, darkening the fabric in a visible wet spot.
She shifted her hips back toward him instinctively, ass lifting just enough to close the distance by a fraction.
The head of his cock brushed the soaked gusset of her panties—hot, blunt, insistent—and she whimpered, thighs trembling.
Ross let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose.
One hand slid up her spine, fingers threading into her hair—not pulling, just holding—while the other reached down and hooked the crotch of her panties to the side again, fully exposing her dripping folds.
The cool air kissed her clit; she shivered.
Then the thick head of him nudged against her entrance—bare skin on bare skin now, no more fabric between them.
He didn’t push in. Not yet.
He simply rested there, letting her feel the impossible girth pressing against her opening, stretching the tight ring of muscle without even breaching it.
Anita’s moan was long and broken.
“Ross…”
“Shhh,” he soothed, thumb stroking the small of her back. “We’ve got all night. Feel how hard you make me. Feel how much I want to fill you.”
He flexed his hips forward—just enough for the head to part her lips, sinking in the barest inch.
Her walls fluttered desperately around the intrusion, trying to pull him deeper, but he held perfectly still, letting her adjust to even that small taste of his size.
Her fingers curled into the leather. Her back arched.
A fresh trickle of arousal leaked out around him, dripping down the underside of his shaft.
He leaned over her, chest brushing her oiled back, lips against her ear.
“Tell me when you’re ready for more,” he whispered. “Because once I start… I’m not stopping until you’ve taken every inch.”
Anita’s only answer was a trembling, needy whine—and the slow, deliberate push of her hips backward, trying to claim another inch on her own.
Ross smiled against her neck, dark and patient.
He was going to ruin her.
And she was going to beg him to do it.
“I don’t think this is right, Ross.” Anita’s voice came out in a shaky gasp, barely above a whisper, each word fighting past the shallow pants heaving her chest. “I have a husband already. He’s… he’s out there. Waiting for me. Waiting to be rescued. I can’t—I can’t cheat on him like this.”
Her words hung in the thick, oil-scented air, trembling with guilt and conflict.
But her body told a different story. She hadn’t moved away. Hadn’t closed her thighs.
Hadn’t even tried to lift her hips off the sofa. Instead, she stayed exactly where she was—face-down, ass slightly raised, legs parted just enough for him to stay lodged inside her.
The two thick inches of Ross’s cock stretched the tight ring of her entrance obscenely wide, her pussy lips clinging to his shaft like they were trying to pull him deeper despite her protest.
Slick arousal coated the exposed length of him, glistening in the low light, betraying how desperately her body wanted what her mind was still fighting.
Ross didn’t push forward. He didn’t retreat either.
He stayed perfectly still—buried those first two inches, letting her feel every pulsing vein, every subtle throb of his massive girth.
The head of his cock sat heavy inside her, pressing against her inner walls, forcing them to part and accommodate even that small invasion.
He could feel how impossibly tight she was—hot, wet, fluttering around him in tiny, involuntary spasms that made his jaw clench.
“If you don’t want this to happen,” he said quietly, voice low and steady, almost gentle, “then you can just stand up and push me away, Anita.”
He didn’t move a muscle. No thrust. No grind.
Just the weight of his body over hers, the heat of his chest brushing her oiled back, the slow rise and fall of his breathing against her ear.
His hands stayed on her hips—firm but not restraining—thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles over her skin.
The choice was hers and hers alone to make.