Chapter 99: Nailing My Girlfriend’s Mother to the Mattress***

Chapter 99: Chapter 99: Nailing My Girlfriend’s Mother to the Mattress***

I was already inside her in the deeper angle, her back against my chest, one leg drawn up, my arm locked across her waist, when she reached back and fisted a hand in my hair.

"Harder," Jenna said.

"You don’t get to stay careful for the whole night and call it control. Control is whether you can still choose while you stop being gentle."

I gave her harder.

The first true thrust drove a rough sound out of her throat.

"Nnh—"

The second made the headboard knock once against the wall.

I kept my mouth near her temple, breath harsh, and forced my eyes to the place where I could still see the bracelet when I turned my head. Green. Steady.

"Still here," I said.

"Prove it. Talk."

"I’m in the room. You’re tight as hell around my cock and the band is green, and I’m not going empty."

I snapped my hips forward again, deeper, and felt her cunt clench in answer.

"You wanted the ceiling. I’m pushing it."

Jenna’s free hand found my wrist and dragged it up from her waist to her throat.

She didn’t close my fingers for me. She just placed them there and left the choice in my palm.

"Light," she ordered.

"If I tap, you open. If your grip changes without me asking, I end this."

I settled my hand around her throat the way she wanted, pressure without crushing, claim without erasure, and fucked her harder for it.

Skin met skin in a sharp, wet rhythm. Her hair had come undone. I wrapped the length around my fist and pulled her head back until the line of her neck was taut under my palm.

"You feel so good."

"Don’t... Don’t give in."

"I won’t."

"Don’t look away from what you can see," she said, voice strained. ℯℯ𝘭.

"Bracelet. My pulse. Your own breathing. If any of them slip, you say it."

"Band’s green. Your pulse is fast. Mine is—" I drove in to the hilt and held for a second, shaking.

"—mine is still mine."

She pushed back onto me with S-rank strength, forcing the next stroke deeper than the last.

The angle punched a broken noise out of both of us.

"Fuck—right there."

I tightened my grip on her hair and on her hip hard enough that the flesh under my fingers would bruise, and I did not let the hunger interpret that roughness as permission to take more than the thrust.

Amber flickered on the bracelet.

I saw it.

"Amber," I said out loud.

"I felt the shift. Don’t stop. Name it and stay."

"Amber on the band. Pathway still quiet. I’m holding the line."

I fucked her through the warning light until it dropped back to green, every stroke deliberate, every breath counted.

"Ah—ah—don’t stop"

"Still here, Jen. Still choosing the next one."

"Good. Harder."

I gave her harder.

The room filled with the raw sound of it, her low, forced sounds, the slap of my body against hers, the occasional knock of wood against wall.

I bit the junction of her shoulder and neck hard enough to mark, tasted salt, and kept my hand steady on her throat while her cunt gripped and fluttered around my cock like it was trying to pull the release out of me before I was ready.

"Wrist," she snapped.

I understood. I pulled my hand from her throat, caught both of her wrists, and pinned them in front of her against the mattress, using my weight and the deeper angle to keep her where I wanted without ever letting my mind slide sideways into the place that only knew how to hollow and keep.

"Is this better?"

"Yes. Don’t you dare finish quiet. I want to hear that you’re present when you do it."

The climax built like pressure behind a sealed lock.

I didn’t chase the blank white version of it. I chased the version where I could still feel the bracelet against my wrist, feel her pulse under the skin of her wrists where I held them, still know the exact moment her body locked and shook around me with a raw, open sound that had my name in it.

"Jenna—"

"Now."

I came hard, deep, fully inside her, vision narrowing only from the force of it and not from any external takeover.

The bracelet flashed amber, held, then settled green while I emptied in long pulses and kept my mouth against her shoulder and my mind on the simple, brutal fact that I was the one driving the last strokes instead of being dragged by them.

We stayed locked together while the aftershocks ran out.

Jenna’s breathing slowed first.

She tapped my hand once with two fingers. I opened my grip on her wrists immediately. She shifted, winced at the depth as I slipped free, and rolled enough to face me in the low light.

Her eyes were clear.

Flushed. Tired. Present.

She reached down, caught my left wrist, and turned the bracelet so the residual log faced her.

"Ceiling held," she said.

"That’s the whole review?"

"For a session where you went hard enough to bruise me and named an amber warning out loud? Yes."

She let go of the band and rested her fingers against the bite mark on her own shoulder, as if confirming it was only a mark.

"You stayed. That’s the data. Next time we find out whether you can do it when the chemical threshold is higher, and the bracelet is quieter. Not tonight."

"There’s next time?"

"You don’t want it."

"I do."

I dropped onto my back beside her, chest working, the hunger in my core already receding into something manageable instead of a verdict.

"You good?" I asked.

Jenna’s mouth curved, small and real.

"Sore. Satisfied. Not drained. Not rewritten."

She glanced at me sideways.

"You?"

"Still in the room."

"Then the exercise worked."

She reached for the sheet and pulled it up over both of us without ceremony.

The blockers on the nightstand remained untouched. The city kept its indifferent noise beyond the glass. Between us, the air smelled like sex and clean sweat and the faint metallic edge of mana that had never been allowed to become a taking.

I stared at the ceiling and let the truth of the last hour settle.

I could go harder.

And I could still stay myself.

That was the first version of control that had ever felt like something other than a temporary cage.