Chapter 79: Over the Window or Enough Time (r-18)

The moon had climbed high over the estate by then.

From Damon’s room, the grounds looked almost unreal beneath it; silver light lay across the lawns and turned the long paths pale between the trees. The pool caught the moon whole, trembling whenever the wind touched its surface, while the mansion lights burned warm behind the hedges and along the terraces. Beyond that, New York was only a distant glow against the horizon, far enough away that for once it couldn’t ruin the quiet.

From inside here, the Corvin Viremont estate looked peaceful.

Beautiful, even.

Almost heavenly.

But there was Damon’s window. ℴ

The floor-to-ceiling glass should’ve framed the entire night like some ridiculous painting rich people bought because an art dealer told them it meant loneliness.

Instead, the room had corrupted the sky’s heavenly view.

Fog clouded the lower panes and handprints marked the glass and the smears caught the moonlight whenever either of them moved, and their reflections broke across the dark window in pieces, two bodies layered over the gardens, the pool and that perfect white moon outside.

Two hours had passed and somehow they were still going at it, on the window this time.

Camilla was held against him near the glass, breathless and flushed, her body loose from exhaustion but refusing to leave his arms. Damon’s face was buried near her neck, his own breathing rough, and every few seconds their reflections shifted again across the pane.

The night outside remained absurdly beautiful.

Inside, neither of them had respected it even slightly.

Damon looked past Camilla’s shoulder at the moon hanging above the estate and almost laughed.

’Heavenly... even more so with her in my arm!’

Yeah.

If heaven looked down right now, it was probably teaching them privacy and reconsidering the curtains.

Camilla moved in his arms, and whatever thought he’d been having disappeared with her.

The moon could keep the estate.

Damon had something considerably better in front of him.

Floor-to-ceiling glass and the estate black beyond it and their reflections cut into the pane like the night itself had pulled up a chair, and there was pool of their fluids at their feet from her juice running off her pussy from one orgasm after another and his endless cum until it made a dark shine on the floor that kept getting wider every time he drove up into her.

Camilla’s palms were printed in the fog and her cheek had left a smear and her tits had left two wet circles where they’d been crushed to the cold, and he had her the way he had her now with one arm hooked under her thigh and the other locked across her ribs with her back plastered to his chest and her ass sitting in the cradle of his hips, standing, open.

Camilla’s pussy dripped down the shaft of his cock while her other foot found the frame and slipped so hard he took all of her at once and used the fall to thrust deeper into her.

The slip has just became another thrust.

Damon caught her and buried his dick to her deepest end in the same motion and she gasped on the glass and her foot slipped again. He caught her again and fucked the catch into her with the same dirty trick they’d already worn into muscle until it was just how they stood, and he put it back in from below like he was trying to lift her off the floor with his cock.

His dick looked stupid thick going in from under, shiny and angry, veins fat along the shaft, the fat head vanished into her pussy and leaving a wet ring of her cream on the skin where it disappeared.

’God, look at that.’

The fat wet dickhead found her plump pussy lips and split them upward.

She was sloppy from the bed and from the ride and from hours of orgasms and many positions they’d assumed and now thirty minutes in on their window position; her overflowing flower was open, messy and shiny, and still the little mouth of her cave had to stretch around that blunt crown like it hadn’t learned him yet.

The rim of Camilla’s pussy had gone pale then shiny while her packed pussy lips thinned at the edge and plumped again behind his head.

Damon fed her only the depth she could take — never the base, never the base — while his leftover inches mashed under her ass shiny and slammed her cheeks every time he punched up into that wrecked little hole.

The unused length of his cock sat fat between her cheeks and dripped in her juice and twitched every time her pussy clenched.

"Ah— Damon— it’s— from under—"

He fucked her in upward thrusts so hard that his shaft dragged every vein through her pussy while juice ran off her hole down his balls and hit the floor and joined the pool.

He pulled back until his head kissed her entrance with her fat lips clinging and a string of her hanging off him like her cunt did not want to let go of his dick, then he slammed back to her end so hard her tits jumped and slapped the glass while her spine tried to bow off his chest and his head flared when it hit her wall.

Her cream sat on him at the same depth line and nowhere past it. In the glass Damon could see his cock punching up into her, her pussy swallowing his head and half his shaft, cream frothing around the rim, her clit shiny and mashed to him on every stroke.

From under her the picture stayed just perfect and heavenly too.

Camilla’s plump pussy lips hung around him while her clit mashed to his shaft on every upstroke and his leftover inches shone between her cheeks in the glass. He made her watch while he wrecked her.

"Look at it go in. Look at your pussy eating my cock, Camilla."

She did.

She moaned at her own hole taking him.

In the glass the ring was like a juicing oval, and in his arms the same oval kissed the middle of his shaft and failed to climb. He did it again slower so she felt every inch of the stretch, then faster so her voice broke into scraps, then faster still until the pane rattled under her palms.

His dick came out shiny to the head, thick and veined, and dripped strings of her, then slammed back into her cave until her ass clapped and her tits jumped.

Pah. Juice. Pah. Shlick—pah.

There was a catch around her entrance when his head popped to her entrance, a gulp when he buried it inside her pussy again. The sounds got louder while his thrusts got harder, faster and more deeper than before. Her foot kept slipping while he kept catching her and turning each catch into another deep punch until her thighs shook against his arms.

Every catch shoved his cock deeper into that overflowing flower while her pussy made that fat gulp like it was starving for him.

The glass had already fogged under her mouth; her breath drew over an old circle and made a new one.

Damon smeared it with his thumb so he could see her tit crushed to the pane with her nipple a dark smear on the cold. When he left her, her hole stayed a little oval and he could see straight into her pink, juicing, used pussy for half a second before he stuffed her again.

Cream sat on his shaft at her depth line while the unused length stayed cleaner after that, angry, slapping the underside of her ass.

His cock looked huge against her, too thick for how small the stretch looked in the glass, his head fat and shiny while her pussy lips stretched pale around him every time he pushed back in.

He pulled to the head and let her drip down the glass, a juicing line running the pane into the pool that had been growing since they first hit the window. She arched harder while her tits flattened toward the pane and her nipples smeared the cold and her ass shoved down onto him like she could steal the last inches and still failed.

A juicing print of her ass sat on his stomach then wiped off on the next thrust then came back on the one after while he kept fucking up into her like the floor could take it.

Her cunt juiced so hard it kept making that filthy shlick every time his dick bottomed on her limit.

"Damon— I’m— I’m going to—"

He did not ease up.