Chapter 362. Does Marc Suspect A Thing...? But Eh... Who Cares Anyway Cuz We Keep On!**

Chapter 362: 362. Does Marc Suspect A Thing...? But Eh... Who Cares Anyway Cuz We Keep On!**

Miles away, in the sterile silence of his own apartment, Marc sat frozen on the edge of his bed. The phone lay face down on the nightstand, but the echoes of that call, the raw, guttural sounds that had bled through the speaker before the line went dead, were still reverberating in his skull like a physical assault.

He was wide awake. His heart was hammering against his ribs in a frantic, irregular rhythm.

He stared at nothing, his eyes bloodshot, his mind trapped in a loop of what he had heard: the wet, slapping sounds, the unmistakable rhythm of someone being driven into a mattress, and Maya’s voice not angry, not scared, but ruined by pleasure.

"What the fuck was that?" he whispered to the empty room, his voice cracking.

He rubbed his face with trembling hands. "What was that sound?"

He tried to rationalize it. Maybe she was watching something?

Maybe she was... alone? But his gut twisted with a sick, nauseating certainty.

He remembered the way her breath had hitched, the way her voice had gone from apologetic to desperate. He remembered the sound of a man’s growl, deep, possessive, and utterly foreign to their relationship.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the small confines of his bedroom like a caged animal. His breathing was shallow. "It’s nothing, Marc... You’re imagining things."

"She was stressed... She was just... she was just on the phone while exercising." But even as he said it, his mind conjured the image of her arched back, the sounds of hips colliding, and the wetness that seemed to permeate even through the digital signal.

The silence of his apartment suddenly felt oppressive, almost deafening. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like a footstep; every gust of wind against the window sounded like a moan.

He felt a strange, twisted heat rising in his own body, a perverse reaction to the violation of his own mind. He was terrified, yes, but there was something else, something dark and shameful that he couldn’t suppress.

The memory of her screaming not in pain, but in surrender, was playing on repeat in his subconscious.

"But... Why did she sound like that?" he muttered, stopping in front of his mirror.

His reflection looked hollow, haunted. "Why did she sound like she was being destroyed?"

He gripped the edge of the dresser until his knuckles turned white. His mind began to wander into dangerous territory, imagining the possibilities he refused to name.

He imagined her lips pressed against someone else’s, her body responding to a strength he didn’t possess. The thought should have made him furious, and it did, but it also sent a confusing, terrifying jolt of arousal through his system.

"No, no, no..." he groaned, shaking his head violently. "Stop it... Don’t think like that."

But he couldn’t stop. His imagination was a traitor.

He could almost hear it now: the distant, muffled scream of her climax, the sound of someone claiming her in ways he never had. His own cock stirred uncomfortably in his pants, a betrayal of his own anger.

He felt sick. He felt humiliated.

He felt like he was losing his mind.

"She’s mine," he whispered into the darkness, though the words felt hollow, like ash in his mouth. "Maya is mine."

He collapsed back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He waited for sleep, but sleep would not come.

Instead, he lay there in the dark, listening to the silence, while in his mind, he continued to hear the phantom echoes of her pleasure, the wet, obscene sounds of her being fucked senseless by someone else, a symphony of betrayal that he was powerless to stop.

’Yeah... I’m just imagining stuff... maybe it’s because of my friend who keeps talking about cheating and cucking in a story tale...’

’What a stupid thing to happen anyway.’

...

The aftermath of their first explosive climax left the room smelling of salt, musk, and raw desperation. Maya lay sprawled across the disheveled sheets, her body twitching with residual aftershocks.

Her face was a ruin of pleasure, eyes glassy and unfocused, lips swollen and glistening with saliva, and her hair matted to her forehead with sweat. She looked completely fucking stupid, her brain temporarily short-circuited by the sheer intensity of Mike’s assault.

Mike, however, showed no signs of slowing down. His breathing was still ragged, his muscles still corded with adrenaline, and his cock, that monstrous, unyielding engine, remained stubbornly, terrifyingly erect despite having just emptied itself.

He looked down at Maya’s wrecked expression and felt a surge of dark triumph.

Reaching over to the nightstand, Mike grabbed his phone. The screen’s glow cut through the dim light of the cabin, casting harsh shadows across their sweat-slicked skin.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough as sandpaper. "You look absolutely ruined."

He positioned the phone above them, angling it to capture Maya’s dazed, shameless expression and his own predatory grin.

"Since we clearly can’t wait for some morning-after pill tomorrow..." he whispered darkly into her ear, "I think I’m going to give you something real special..."

"A risky creampie right on your dangerous day."

Maya’s eyes fluttered open at the words, the danger of it igniting a new fire in her gut. The thought of being unprotected, of being completely claimed without any safety net, made her hips buck involuntarily against him.

"Nnngh... ahh... yes!" she moaned, a broken, needy sound. "Do it, Mike... fuck, yes!"

Mike snapped a photo, the flash momentarily blinding them both.

"What a perfect coincidence!" he laughed, the sound echoing off the cabin walls. "Let’s commemorate this anniversary properly."

"An anniversary creampie!" He began snapping more photos, close-ups of her flushed face, the way his cock disappeared into her slick folds, the evidence of their debauchery.

Click. Click. Click.

"Smile for the camera, baby," he teased, before shoving his cock back inside her with a wet, sucking sound.

SHHHLLUCK.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Maya screamed as he bottomed out again.

The sensation of him re-entering her while she was already so sensitive was overwhelming. "Pour it in! Mike, please!"

"Pour all your baby batter into me! Right into my womb! I want it all!"

Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed her hips with bruising force, positioning himself perfectly for maximum penetration.

"This is yours, Maya. Every fucking drop."

He began to thrust again, not with the controlled rhythm of before, but with a frantic, desperate urgency.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

The wet sounds were deafening in the small space. The phone remained active, recording the obscene spectacle as Mike drove himself home.

"OH GOD! YES!" Maya shrieked, her head thrashing against the pillow.

Her hands flew to her stomach, as if she could physically feel him filling her. "Give it to me!"

"Fill me up until I overflow! AAAAHHHHHHH!"

The buildup was instantaneous. Mike’s body stiffened as the second wave of climax tore through him.

"Here it comes again!" he roared. "I’m filling you up, Maya!"

"I’m claiming you forever!"

"CUMMING! I’M CUMMING AGAIN! "Maya screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice breaking into a high pitched wail. "OH FUCK, CUMMING! CUMMING! "

The second eruption was even more violent than the first. Mike’s cock bucked inside her as he unleashed a fresh torrent of thick, hot seed directly against her cervix.

SQUELCH. SLOP. SPLAT.

He held himself deep inside her, grinding his pelvis against hers to ensure every ounce of his cum was forced as deep as possible into her womb.

Maya’s body went rigid, her legs locking around him once more as she descended into another devastating orgasm.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNGGGHHHH!" Her scream was a raw, primal sound of surrender.

She could feel the scalding heat flooding her internal cavity, the overwhelming fullness of him making her feel like she might burst.

PLAP... PLAP...

The thrusting slowed to involuntary spasms as they both collapsed into each other, drenched in sweat and cum, the only sound left in the hotel room being their ragged, desperate breathing and the wet, obscene squelching of Mike’s cock still twitching inside her swollen, overflowing cunt.