A Decade Later and His Claim Remains

Chapter 1

Ten years. A decade of silence stretched between them like a brittle thread, now snapped by a single text glowing in the pre-dawn blue of her phone screen. *I’m in town. One coffee. For old times’ sake.* Chloe had stared at the name—Cameron—until the letters blurred. She was getting married in three days. The white dress hung in a garment bag in her closet, a ghost of a future she’d meticulously planned. And yet, her heart hammered against her ribs with a rhythm she’d thought long forgotten. A rhythm that felt more like home than any promise of forever.

Now, standing in the doorway of his borrowed downtown loft, the ghost became flesh.

Cameron hadn’t just aged; he’d been honed. The tall, slim frame she remembered was now sheathed in lean muscle, a topography of tension. His brown hair was shaved close to his skull, a stark contrast to the boyish mop of their youth. New tattoos snaked down his corded forearms, dark ink against pale skin in the dim light filtering through the industrial windows. But his eyes—those hadn’t changed. They were the same deep, watchful pools, only now they held a simmering intensity that pinned her to the spot. He wore only low-slung grey sweatpants, the thick outline of his cock unmistakable even in the shadows.

“Chloe,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the hollow of her chest.

The air between them crackled, thick with unsaid words and the phantom scent of their past. She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her with a sound of finality. She was here. In three days, she’d belong to someone else. But right now, in this raw, exposed space, there was only him.

He didn’t move to hug her. His gaze was a physical touch, a slow, deliberate sweep from the messy brown curls tumbling past her shoulders, down over the full, ripe curves barely contained by her simple sundress, to the generous swell of her hips and the big, round ass he’d once worshipped. She saw the recognition in his eyes, the hunger. It mirrored her own, a hungry, nymphomaniacal pulse that had begun to throb between her legs the moment she’d agreed to come.

“Still a fucking vision,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

He finally moved, a predator’s fluid grace, circling her. The space felt charged, dangerous. He stopped behind her, his breath a warm ghost on the nape of her neck. His fingers, calloused and sure, came up to trace the line of her jaw, then down the column of her throat. Not a caress. A claim.

“You’re getting married,” he stated, his thumb pressing gently against her pulse point where it fluttered like a trapped bird.

“Yes.” The word was a whisper.

“To a good man?”

“A very good man.”

A low, humorless sound escaped him. “Then he doesn’t know what you need.” His other hand came to rest on her hip, his grip firm, possessive. “He doesn’t know the dirty little slut you are at your core. The one who begs for it.”

A shiver, hot and liquid, cascaded down her spine. Her playful defiance from years ago was gone, melted into a submissive pool of want. This was the tension, the obstacle that raised the stakes to a screaming pitch: her impending vows, his undeniable ownership. He was the only man who’d ever seen that part of her, who’d ever demanded it.

“Show me,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a gritty whisper in her ear. “Show me you remember.”

With trembling fingers, she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it up and over her head, letting it fall soundlessly to the concrete floor. She stood before him in only a simple lace bra and panties, her curvy body on full display—the busty swell of her breasts, the soft curve of her belly, the glorious, round expanse of her ass. Shaved and bare, just as he liked it. A canvas for him.

Cameron’s eyes darkened. “On your knees.”

The command was absolute. A thrill, sharp and electric, shot through her. She sank down, the cool floor biting into her knees. He stepped closer, the thick, 8-inch outline of his cock straining against the sweatpants just inches from her face. The sheer size of him, even hidden, made her mouth water. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slowly pushed them down, freeing himself.

Her breath hitched. He was magnificent. Thick, heavy, and already gleaming at the tip. The sight of him, the musky, familiar scent of his skin, unlocked a decade of suppressed memory and need. She was his again. Just for this morning.

“You look at me like you’re starving,” he observed, his hand tangling in her hair, not painfully, but with complete control. “You are, aren’t you? You’ve been starving for this. For me.”

She could only nod, her full lips parting.

“Then taste what you’re giving up.”

He guided himself to her mouth, and she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to swirl around the broad head, collecting the bead of pre-cum. A groan, deep and visceral, tore from his chest. It was the permission she needed. She took him in, sinking down his length with a practiced, eager hunger, her nose pressing into the trimmed hair at his base. She hollowed her cheeks, her hands coming to rest on his lean hips, her eyes rolling back in blissful submission.

Cameron watched her, his jaw tight, his dominant energy filling the room. He held her head, setting a slow, deep rhythm, fucking her mouth with a possessive ease.

“That’s it,” he gritted out, his voice rough. “Take it all. Swallow it. This is what you came for. One last time, you’re mine.”

And as she lost herself in the act, in the salt and silk of him on her tongue, she knew he was right. For these raw, extreme, stolen hours, she was nobody’s bride-to-be. She was Cameron’s. And he was just getting started.

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Chapter 2

He pulled her up by her hair, a sharp, commanding tug that brought her to her feet with a gasp. His lips crashed onto hers, not in a kiss, but in a claiming. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, tasting himself on her. It was raw, possessive, and she moaned into it, her body melting against his hard planes.

“You still taste like my slut,” he growled against her lips, his hands tearing at the flimsy lace of her bra. The cups gave way, and her full, heavy breasts spilled into his palms. He squeezed them, hard, his thumbs brushing over her stiff nipples. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me you’ve been touching yourself for ten years thinking about my cock.”

“Yes,” she panted, her head falling back as he pinched and rolled her nipples. “Every time, Cameron. It was always you.”

“Good girl.” He spun her around, pressing her front against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The city was waking up below, oblivious. His body blanketed hers, one hand splaying across her belly, the other snaking down to cup her dripping wet pussy over her panties. “And now you come here, three days from being another man’s wife, sopping wet for me. You’re fucking pathetic.” The insult was a caress, the truth of it making her clench around nothing.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and ripped them down her thighs. The sound of tearing lace was obscene. His palm came down on her big, round ass in a sharp, stinging smack. She cried out, the pain blossoming into pure, liquid heat.

“Count,” he demanded, landing another.

“One!” she gasped.

Another crack, harder. “Two!”

A third, on the other cheek, making her knees buckle. “Three!”

He rubbed the burning flesh, then plunged two fingers into her soaking cunt without warning. She screamed, her forehead pressing against the glass. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he snarled, curling his fingers, hitting a spot that made her vision blur. “You gonna come just from my fingers, you desperate whore? Before I even fuck you?”

“Please,” she begged, her hips rocking back against his hand. “Please, I need you inside me.”

He withdrew his fingers, shiny with her arousal, and shoved them into her mouth. “Suck. Taste what you’re giving up.”

She obeyed, sucking her own juices from his fingers, her eyes locked on his in the reflection in the glass. The submission was complete.

He positioned himself behind her, the broad, leaking head of his cock nudging against her entrance. He didn’t push in. He just teased, painting her slit with his pre-cum. “Ask for it,” he commanded, his voice gravel. “Ask for your last fuck.”

“Please, Cameron,” she whimpered, pushing back against him. “Please fuck me. I need your cock. I’ve always needed it.”

With a brutal, single thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. The stretch was exquisite, a blinding fullness she’d ached for. He held himself there, letting her feel every thick inch. “Mine,” he grunted, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, setting a punishing, deep rhythm. Each drive punched a moan from her lungs. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, surely leaving bruises. The window rattled with their force.

“You take it so well,” he panted, his pace becoming erratic, brutal. “This tight, greedy pussy was made for me. You gonna come for me, Chloe? You gonna squirt all over my cock like you used to?”

“Yes! God, yes, I’m close!” she screamed, the coil in her belly winding to a breaking point.

“Come,” he roared, his thrusts becoming savage, final. “Come on my cock, then I’m filling this married pussy with my cum.”

The command shattered her. Her orgasm ripped through her, a violent, convulsing wave that made her legs shake and a gush of fluid splash against his pounding thighs. As she clenched and milked him through her climax, he gave one last, deep thrust and held, a raw, guttural shout tearing from his throat as he emptied himself inside her in hot, pulsing ropes. She felt every jet, the profound, claiming heat flooding her deepest part.

He slumped over her, both of them breathless and slick with sweat, his softening cock still nestled inside her, his cum already beginning to seep out. He kissed her shoulder, a stark contrast to the fury of moments before. “That’s one,” he murmured, his voice spent. “Two holes to go.”

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Chapter 3

Cameron pulled out of her, his thick cock glistening with their mixed wetness. He didn’t give her a moment to recover, his hands gripping her hips and spinning her with a force that left her dizzy. He pushed her forward, bending her over the unmade bed, her big, round ass presented high in the dim light. Her breath came in ragged pants, her entire body humming from the brutal fuck and the knowledge of what was coming.

“Look at you,” he snarled, running a possessive hand over the curve of one cheek, already marked from his spanking. “Three days from a wedding, and you’re bent over for me, ready to take it in the ass. You really are a fucking dream.”

He leaned close, his warm breath ghosting over her most private hole. “This is the last part of you that hasn’t been mine today.” Before she could respond, he spat directly onto her tight pucker, the fluid landing with a wet, shocking heat. She cried out, a sound of pure, wanton need.

“Cameron, please—”

“Quiet,” he ordered, his thumb, slick with her arousal and his spit, pressing against the clenching ring of muscle. He didn’t ask. He didn’t coax. With a rough, insistent push, he pressed the pad of his thumb inside, breaching her tightness with a sudden, burning stretch. She gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

He worked his thumb in deeper, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “This is mine too,” he declared, his voice absolute. “Say it.”

“It’s yours,” she whimpered, pushing back against the invasive pressure, her body betraying her with a fresh flood of wetness between her thighs. “All of me is yours. Please, just fuck me. I need your thick cock.”

He withdrew his thumb with a wet pop, and she heard the snap of a cap. The sound of lube being squeezed filled the charged silence. A cold, slippery trickle traced the cleft of her ass, and then his fingers were there, working the gel into her, one finger, then two, stretching her with a ruthless, efficient rhythm.

“You’re gonna take every inch,” he promised, his voice a dark promise as he positioned himself. The broad, leaking head of his cock nudged against her well-lubricated, stretched entrance. “You’re gonna scream when I fill this pretty ass. And then you’ll walk down the aisle with my cum buried deep inside you.”

“Yes! God, do it!” she begged, her voice breaking. “Fuck my ass, Cameron. Claim it!”

With a brutal, relentless drive, he sheathed himself in her tight heat. The burn was exquisite, a white-hot fullness that stole her breath. He buried himself to the hilt and held there, letting her feel the impossible stretch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, his hands digging into the flesh of her hips. “So fucking perfect.”

He began to move, setting a deep, punishing pace that rattled the bed frame. Each thrust was a claiming, a reconquest. She was so full, stretched so exquisitely around his thick cock, that every nerve ending was on fire.

“You like that, you dirty slut?” he panted, his rhythm becoming savage. “You like having your ass fucked while you’re engaged?”

“I love it!” she screamed, her orgasm building from the dual sensations of his possession and her own degrading pleasure. “I’m gonna come! Please, don’t stop!”

“Come all over my cock,” he roared, his own control snapping. His thrusts became erratic, primal. “Squirt for me, Chloe. Let go!”

The command unleashed her. A violent, convulsing orgasm tore through her, her cunt clenching around nothing as waves of pleasure radiated from her brutally filled ass. She screamed, a gush of fluid soaking the sheets beneath her. Feeling her tight channel spasm around him sent Cameron over the edge. With a final, deep plunge, he held himself inside her, a raw shout tearing from his throat as he pumped his hot cum deep into her ass in pulsing, endless jets.

He collapsed over her, both of them slick with sweat and trembling. He slowly pulled out, a thick trickle of lube and his seed immediately escaping down her thigh. He turned her onto her back, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he looked at her wrecked, blissful face.

“Now you’re ready,” he murmured, kissing her swollen lips with a shocking tenderness. “Now you’re truly mine.”