Friends

Chapter 70

A/N: The book is FINISHED! You can read the entire story on my Patreon. I also post exclusive standalone smut scenes there if you just want to read those.

Marc's POV:

Her body is limp.

She's trembling beneath me, her body soaked in sweat, her eyes glassy with exhaustion and tears, but she's still hanging on. Her plea isn't loud. It's barely more than a breath. But it hits me like a shot of adrenaline straight to the chest.

She's close to her breaking point. Laid bare. No defenses. No walls. No more fronts.

But she's refusing to tap out.

And fuck, that does something to me.

I've never had a woman take this much from me—not without begging me to stop. Not without breaking. But Jasmine? She's still here. Barely. Limp beneath me. Her body's given up but her spirit hasn't. And that makes me ravenous.

Her silence, her stillness—it's not weakness. It's defiance. And it only fuels me more.

I hover over her, watching the way her body shudders, how her breath stutters in and out of her lungs. She looks completely wrecked—and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

The more limp she gets, the more turned on I become. It's like every ounce of resistance she loses gives me permission to take more. To push harder. To fuck deeper.

This is what I've been holding back.

I can finally go all out. Finally let loose without restraint. No fear of being too much, no hesitation. Just me, in my rawest, darkest form.

"My dick is nowhere close to being soft. I can cum two, maybe three times before I even think about tapping out—and I haven't even cum once," I taunt, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. "You wanted this, right? Said you could take it?"

I grab her waist, anchoring her in place. No need to pin her wrists or yank her hair—there's no fight left in her. She's given me everything. Now all that's left is for me to take.

My fingers dig into the soft curve of her hips as I pull her back onto me, slamming into her with a force that would've made her scream earlier. But now? She just moans—low, broken, delirious. Her body absorbs every thrust, pliant and trembling beneath the weight of me.

She can't run anymore. She doesn't even have the energy to try. She just takes it.

And fuck, watching her take it like this—watching her melt into the mattress, hands limp, legs together, stomach flat against the bed, back arched slightly from the angle—it's like watching submission personified. Not because I forced it, but because she gave it. Completely. Freely.

Her walls flutter around me, still sensitive from her last orgasm. I can feel the way her body clenches with each deep thrust, how she tries to adjust to my size but can't keep up.

She's wrecked. Absolutely destroyed.

And then I feel it. That telltale tightening. The way her body pulses, the trembling spike in her breath.

"You about to cum again?" I sneer, voice low and dangerous. "Go on, cum again. Show me what that pretty little body can really take."

But instead of moaning, she starts crying.

"I— I can't," she whimpers. "Please... I tap out. I don't know if I can cum again."

Tears roll down her cheeks as her voice shakes with desperation. And still, her body betrays her—clenching, pulsing, teetering on the edge.

She's fighting it, but she's still right there.

Right on the edge of shattering again.

I grip her ass tighter and lean down, my lips brushing against her ear.

"Beg," I growl, still thrusting into her without mercy. "Admit you can't handle my dick. Say it."

She gasps, her voice shaking, eyes glassy with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. "I... I can't handle it, Daddy. It's too much."

"Louder," I growl, thrusting harder.

"I can't handle your dick!" she cries out. "It's too much! You're too much!"

A savage grin cuts across my face. "Good girl."

I release her hips and flip her over onto her back in one smooth motion. Her body moves like it's weightless in my hands—limp, soft, obedient. I mount her with ease, positioning myself so I'm straddling her chest. Her breath catches as I settle over her, towering above her, muscles tense, chest heaving.

I wrap one hand gently but firmly around her throat—not enough to cut off air, just enough to feel her pulse under my palm. My other hand wraps around the base of my shaft, still slick and hard, veins bulging as I stroke myself.

Her eyes flicker open, dazed and glassy, locking onto mine. She looks destroyed. Ruined. But so fucking beautiful.

"You said you could take it," I growl, voice low and full of gravel. "Said you were ready for me."

She nods weakly, lips parted, breathing fast.

I lean down until my mouth is close to her ear.

"Then take all of me," I whisper, voice dark and deliberate. "Let me finish what I started."

Her lips part like she's going to say something—but she doesn't get the chance. I thrust faster into my fist, letting the pressure build. Her body shakes under me, her hands weakly fisting the sheets.

"I knew you couldn't handle this dick," I taunt, voice like a whip. "But fuck—you tried. You gave it everything. Now you're gonna wear it like a crown."

And with a deep groan, I cum. Hot, pulsing release streaking across her chest, her neck, the curve of her jaw. She gasps, her back arching, eyes fluttering shut as I moan through clenched teeth, hand tightening just a little around her throat to hold her there, still, trembling beneath me.

When the last wave passes, I release her throat gently and look down at her—breathless, wrecked, marked.

Admired. Cherished. Owned.

I collapse next to her for a moment, trying to catch my breath. She groans, squirming a little, and immediately mutters, "Please get me a rag before your cum dries up on me."

I snort out a laugh but obey, grabbing a warm towel and gently cleaning her off. Her body twitches beneath the soft fabric, still sensitive. When I'm done, I toss the towel to the side and collapse next to her again, exhaling hard.

But the ache in me doesn't settle. My dick is still hard—throbbing with need.

"So... when you gonna be ready for the next round?" I ask, glancing at her with a lazy smirk.

She turns her head slowly, eyes wide in disbelief. "We've been fucking for hours and you're asking when the next round is?"

I chuckle, nodding toward the dresser. "Check the clock."

She blinks, follows my gaze. And then freezes.

"Twenty minutes?" she gasps.

I grin. "Welcome to the big leagues, princess."