Chapter 175: 175. Every Room and Position In Her Apartment, Then Back To My Room!**
The transition from the floor to the sofa was a blur of sweat and frantic skin. Mike didn’t give her time to recover; he hauled her up, turning her around so she faced away from him.
He sat back on the cushions, and Petricia, driven by a hunger she no longer recognized as her own, climbed onto his lap in a reverse cowgirl. As she lowered herself onto his massive, pulsing cock, a sharp gasp escaped her lips.
"Oh... God, Mike!" she cried out, her voice a ragged melody of pleasure.
She began to bounce, her blonde ponytail whipping against her back, her large breasts swaying violently with every heavy lunge.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
’I should stop,’ she thought, her hands clutching the back of the sofa for stability. ’This is too much...’
’The sheer disrespect of it... the way he just takes over my body like it is his.’
But the resistance was a lie. Every time he thrust upward, meeting her descent with a bruising force, her resolve crumbled.
The memory of the truth, the discovery of where the building’s money had actually gone, and the realization of Gerald’s betrayals acted like fuel to the fire. The rhythm of their bodies pulverized the guilt that usually sat like a stone in her chest.
’How can I feel guilty...?’ she wondered, her eyes rolling back as he gripped her hips to steady her frantic pace. ’He stole from us...’
’He let the foundation rot while we lived a lie... If the truth is ugly, then let this be the most beautiful sin of all!’
Mike didn’t say a word; he simply watched her, his eyes dark and unimpressed by her struggle, waiting for the moment she finally surrendered to the sensation. And she did.
With a loud, uninhibited moan, "Yes! Harder, Mike! "Please!" She stopped fighting and started riding him like a woman possessed.
He didn’t let the momentum die. He stood, catching her as she slid down his length, and carried her to the dining table.
He laid her back against the hard wood, her legs draped over his broad, muscular shoulders. The contrast of the cold table and his scorching, tanned skin made her scream, a high, piercing sound that she had to stifle with her own hand.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The sound of his pelvis slamming against hers echoed through the quiet apartment. Mike was relentless, his movements powerful and efficient, driving into her with a dominance that left her breathless.
"You like this, don’t you?" Mike growled, his face inches from hers, his red hair damp with sweat. "You like being used by a man who actually knows what to do with you."
"Yes! Ahhhnnn! Fuck, Mike, yes!" she screamed, her voice breaking. The dining table creaked under the force of his assault.
’The money... the lies... they don’t matter anymore,’ she thought, her mind fracturing under the intensity. ’Nothing matters but this weight, this heat, this man!’
Finally, he pulled out, leaving her gasping and trembling on the table, before he moved her to the carpet one last time. This time, he lay flat on his back, a mountain of tanned muscle, and commanded her to take control.
Petricia crawled over him, her movements heavy and primal. She straddled him, her knees sinking into the soft carpet, and began to ride him with a slow, grinding intensity.
She leaned forward, her massive tits brushing against his chest, her breath hot against his neck.
"Look at me," Mike commanded, his voice a low, territorial rumble.
She looked down, her eyes glazed with lust and a newfound, terrifying freedom. As she moved, she felt the last threads of her old life snapping.
The landlady, the wife, the keeper of secrets—they were all dissolving.
’I am not a keeper anymore,’ she thought, her hips rolling in a desperate, rhythmic circle as she neared her peak. ’I am just a woman... And he is the only thing that is real...’
"Ohhh... fuck!" she shrieked, her back arching as her orgasm tore through her, a violent, soul-shaking release that left her sobbing his name into the quiet night.
She collapsed against his massive chest, completely undone, completely conquered, and for the first time in eleven years, she felt entirely whole.
’At first... I kept trying to resist, but...’
’...I’ve realized now that it’s impossible...’
’I’ve let myself get swept by the flow and accepted my new tenant... the guild I feel toward my husband has almost faded away...’
"AOGGH~! AGH~! GAHH~! AGGH~! SO DEEP~! IT FEELS SOO GOOODDDDD~!!!" She smiles with her eyes, which start to show a heart symbol.
...
The transition to Mike’s apartment was a feverish blur of motion, a desperate race to escape the ghosts of her own home and drown in the sheer masculinity of his. Now, they were in his bedroom, the air thick with the scent of man and raw, unbridled lust.
Petricia lay on his bed, her blonde hair splayed across the dark sheets like a halo of chaos. Mike was positioned above her, his massive, tanned body a heavy, glorious weight that anchored her to the mattress.
He didn’t hold back; he drove into her with a brutal, rhythmic power that made the bedframe groan in protest.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
She was no longer the composed woman who managed accounts and locked doors. She was a creature of pure sound.
Every time his thick cock slammed into her, her voice tore from her throat, uninhibited and wild.
"AAAAHHHH! OH GOD, MIKE! YES! YESSSS!" she shrieked, her back arching so violently her spine nearly snapped. "FUCK! RIGHT THERE! AHHHHHH!"
Mike, ever the dominant provocateur, didn’t just take her body; he took her mind. As he hammered into her, his eyes locked onto hers, dark and mocking.
"Is this how you sound when he touches you, Petricia?" Mike growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, more punishing. "Does he make you scream like this?! Or does he just lie there while you pretend to be the perfect, quiet little wife!?"
Petricia couldn’t even process the insult; she only felt the exquisite pain and pleasure of his lunge. "AHHH! FUCK! DON’T STOP! OHHHH, MIKEEEE!"
"He’s probably dreaming about his little bank accounts right now," Mike mocked, a cruel, handsome smirk playing on his lips as he drove deeper, hitting her sweet spot with surgical precision. "Dreaming about all that money he stole while you were busy keeping his world from falling apart!"
"What a dumbass. A total, pathetic dumbass."
The mention of Gerald’s betrayal usually would have stung, but under the weight of Mike’s cock, it felt like a liberation. It was the final nail in the coffin of her guilt.
"HE’S A FOOL! AHHHH! AND YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS! OHHHH, GOD!" she screamed, her voice cracking with the sheer intensity of her climax approaching. "FUCK HIM! FUCK HIM! JUST FUCK ME! AAAAHHHHHH!"
"That’s right," Mike whispered, his voice dripping with dominance as he gripped her thighs, pulling them wide to expose her completely to his assault. "Forget him!"
"He doesn’t deserve a single one of these screams! They belong to me, who always saves both of your asses!"
He began to move with a frantic, animalistic speed, his tanned muscles rippling under the dim light. He was relentless, a machine of pure pleasure, and Petricia was drowning in him.
"OH! OH! OHHHHHH! MIKE! PLEASE! MORE! GIVE ME MORE! AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
Her moans turned into primal, guttural screams that echoed off the walls of the apartment. She wasn’t just making noise; she was exorcising every year of loneliness, every lie, and every silent burden she had carried.
’Let him hear!’ she thought, her mind a white-hot blur of ecstasy. ’Let the whole damn neighborhood hear how much better this is!"
"Let him wake up to the sound of me finally being alive!’
"YES! YESSSS! FUCK! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"
As Mike reached his own peak, his body tensing like a coiled spring, he delivered a series of deep, soul-crushing thrusts that sent Petricia over the edge. She let out a long, piercing, unashamed scream that seemed to vibrate through her very bones, her entire body convulsing in a massive, shattering orgasm that left her sobbing and gasping for air in the wake of his dominance.
"OHHHHNNNNNN~!!! I LOVE MIKE’S COOOCCCKKKKKKKK~!!!"
