Chapter 12
The house was starting to settle down for the night, just like every other evening, but tonight… I wasn't supposed to lock anything up. On the contrary, I needed to leave everything wide open. I was the silent accomplice in a crime that shouldn't have any witnesses.
He was supposed to slip in quietly, in the dead of night, grab whatever he wanted, and get out without being seen, without leaving a trace.
I stayed awake, alert, watching every little movement. I was the lookout on duty, making sure everything was safe—or better yet, clear. The small gate outside, with the padlock undone… and the window in my bedroom, flung wide open. No one would see him come in. No one would see him leave.
And then, right on time, my phone buzzed. It was a text from him:
"Can I come in? Everyone asleep?"
A thumbs-up was all it took to confirm he could enter. I rushed through the house, turning off the lights that were still on, switching off the TV, and heading to my room. When I got there, I locked the door and went to the window to watch for him. I was dressed for bed, in a comfy nightgown, ready… and so damn nervous.
A shadow crossed the gate and slid through the entrance, moving down the narrow, quiet side hallway. I could barely make out his face in the darkness, but I didn't need to—I knew exactly who my thief was.
Like a cat, he approached, quick and sneaky, whispering a soft "hey" that felt almost conspiratorial before swinging one leg over the windowsill. I stepped back to let him in, and as soon as his foot hit the floor of my room, I closed the window.
Now… the crime.
He didn't wait for me to turn around—he attacked from behind, with the urgency of someone who couldn't hold back anymore.
First came the smell that hit me like a freight train, brutal, filling the room before I even felt the heat of his body: the thick, heavy scent of a man, woody and slightly sweet, spreading through the air slow and teasing. Any second, someone could notice. The whole house could catch that smell of my desire and come looking.
Then, from the touch, the shock.
His arms wrapped around me from behind, trapping me like a snare—one hand firm on my waist, anchoring me, pulling me against him; the other, wild, found my breast and squeezed without any gentleness, with a force that ripped a muffled gasp from me, almost a protest that died before it could form.
His body pressed into mine, hot, solid, undeniable. When he pulled me even closer, until I melted into his skin, the air caught in my throat. My skin prickled with the sudden awareness of how vulnerable I was.
His mouth roamed my neck, hungry, switching between raw bites and intense sucks, marking my skin without shame. He hunted for my lips, wandering, eager, while his hand slid down with the same urgency to my ass, gripping hard, claiming, taking.
He was starving… and in a rush. Starving for me, rushing to use me, to own me right there in that dark room, with the whole house sleeping, oblivious to what was about to go down.
My hand, bold, didn't wait for an invitation. It slipped right down without ceremony until it found the hard bulge in his pants, throbbing, hot, alive. I started pulling it out without hesitation, wrestling with the fabric and my own impatience, while he kept me facing away, pressed against him, like he never wanted to let go.
When we finally managed to untangle, half out of breath, we laughed—we laughed like a couple of idiots, partners in crime, surrendered, in the dim light of the room, as if laughter was the only way to handle the tension eating us alive.
He stripped off his clothes with insane speed, like he couldn't afford to waste another second, tearing through the night with his haste. And when his cock sprang free, into the air, my eyes lit up with instant, almost childlike joy, while my mouth watered instinctively, craving it.
I sat down, prim and proper, with the fake sweetness of a good girl in her own house—legs together, hands resting on my thighs, like I was waiting patiently… but only on the outside.
Of course, first, I couldn't resist: I shot him a sly, teasing smile, loaded with that mischief he knew so well—a invitation and a challenge, all in one look.
And there I sat, quiet…
When he had nothing left covering him, he came to me—shameless, radiating nothing but raw male lust, his hard cock jutting out.
First, my neck. He grabbed me hard, pulling me until, for a second, I couldn't breathe. A flash of fear shot through me, wiping away the teasing smile I'd had left.
His eyes were wild, unrestrained—a lust that scared me and turned me on at the same time.
His mouth invaded mine in a rough kiss, his tongue dominating, leaving me limp, surrendered, done for.
With his knees, he forced my legs apart, overriding any resistance until there was none left. I gave in, no choice. Then, he pushed me—a sure move from a guy who knows he'll get what he wants—and laid me back, spreading me wide open. I was getting wetter by the second. I could feel the wetness spreading, my thighs trembling, begging for his weight.
He collapsed on top of me, his skin burning against mine, while the head of his cock rubbed insistently, seeking entry, demanding it. My clothes were still there—useless, flimsy, just a barrier delaying what we both couldn't hold back anymore.
"Already?" I whispered, breathless, not even sure if it was a complaint or an invite.
He didn't want to waste time on games, and neither did I. There was no room for hesitation.
When I felt the fabric give way, my panties yanked aside, twisted, he broke through the last barrier and plunged into me all at once, hard, opening my body with violence and hunger.
His hot skin slid in, thick, forcing its way until it buried deep. The tip grazed my clit in a quick, electric shock before disappearing inside me, stretching me, filling me, stuffing me full.
The air rushed out of my lungs, my mouth hanging open, silent, while his weight pinned me there, motionless, completely given over to the one certainty hitting me: he was inside. Deep. All the way.
Each thrust made my panties fold and bunch up, pressing tighter, ramping up the friction, making everything wetter, hotter. My body yielded, molding to his, taking every move, every thrust, as he drove in and out, rhythmic, soaking me, claiming me, pulling sighs from me that I didn't even realize I was making.
I felt him inside me completely, deep, filling every inch. I had to cover my mouth with my hand, muffling the moans escaping without control. He knew… he knew my ways, my signals, the limits of my body—and even better, the shortcuts.
He'd speed up when I wanted it fast, but he also knew when to stop, when to just bury himself in me, forcing me to feel it, to pulse around him. And that's what he was doing now… stopping, sinking in deep, pinning me with his weight and presence.
In those pauses, I instinctively clenched around him, squeezing hard, like my body wanted to suck him in even more, pull him, hold him. The lust exploded, building, uncontrollable, the heat rising until it consumed me whole.
He stayed there, glued to me, buried to the hilt, his body tense, breath ragged in my ear. And then he started… filthy, cursing under his breath while biting me hard.
"Bitch… slut… cum for me…" he whispered, voice hoarse, sinking his teeth into my skin, marking, stoking the fire even more.
And I came, moaning muffled, locked around him, shaking all over, hand clamped over my mouth, trying to stifle a scream that just wouldn't fit there.
When my body finally stopped pulsing, I caught my breath—but not my hunger. If anything, the desire felt even more ravenous.
I shoved him hard, making him roll off me, his cock slipping out hot, wet, heavy as he got up, confused and turned on.
"Stand up," I ordered, breathless, turning away and getting on all fours without fanfare, ass up, chest down on the bed, legs spread, letting him see everything.
I felt his gaze burning into me, hot, starving, before his hands came down hard, grabbing my waist, yanking my hips toward him. The firm, possessive grip sent a shiver through me and yanked my panties down my thighs.
He leaned in, rubbing his cock at my entrance, sliding over my slick skin, until he thrust back in, even harder, rougher. It shocked me, air vanishing from my throat, and all I could do was moan, spread wide, totally exposed, as he started pounding.
His hips slammed against my ass, strong, rhythmic, each thrust shoving my body forward, ripping sighs, moans, incoherent words from me. He gripped my hip tight, then grabbed my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to arch, to give myself even more.
"Like this… yeah, this is how I like it…" he growled, between sharp slaps that cracked against my ass, making my skin sting and the heat build.
The sound of skin slapping, mixed with our moans, the smacks, the wet squelch of his cock sliding in and out, built a dirty, desperate rhythm.
I felt him filling me up completely, going deep, deeper than seemed possible, tearing me apart with sensations that made me lose track, lose control, lose my mind. My skin burned, my whole body throbbed, muscles clenching without me able to stop it.
When I thought I couldn't take anymore, that my body couldn't handle the intensity, he yanked my hair even harder, forcing me to arch, to open up completely for him. And right then, in that brutal surrender, he thrust so hard, so deep, that the orgasm exploded inside me, devastating.
The scream tore out of me, raw and ragged, as I clamped down around him, contracting wildly, out of control, like I wanted to suck him all the way inside. My legs buckled, arms gave out, but he held me firm, keeping me there as my body shook, convulsed in wild spasms.
And he felt it… felt my climax taking over, shaking me. He lost it. Pounded even faster, feral, hips slamming violently, until he buried himself to the end, gripping my waist hard.
That's when I felt it… hot, thick… him cumming inside me, spurting hard, filling every space, marking me in a filthy, delicious way. With each pulse, another hot jet flooded me, making me moan again, forcing me to stay there, spread open, surrendered, taking it all, feeling it all.
He trembled, body rigid, holding me so tight it hurt. And when it seemed over, he landed two more sharp slaps on my ass, hard cracks that made my skin burn, like he was sealing it, claiming: mine.
I could only smile, eyes closed, panting, spent, totally fucked—and even then, my body still pulsing, wanting more… always wanting more of him.
He stayed there, frozen behind me, still inside, still twitching, hands firm on my waist, like he didn't want—or couldn't—let go. I felt his final spasms mixing with mine, that warmth trickling out slow, staining my skin, marking my body, blending our scents, our sweat, our crime.
We stayed like that for a few seconds… or minutes, I don't know. Time lost all meaning. I could only feel—his ragged breath on my back, the weight, the heat… and that ruthless sensation of being invaded, used, possessed, but above all… desired.
He finally let out a long, satisfied sigh and pulled back a bit, leaving me empty, spread wide, exposed. I rolled onto my side, tugging at the nightgown still hanging loose somewhere on my body, no rush.
We looked at each other, conspirators, no words needed. He dressed in silence, with that practiced hurry of someone who knew the way out, who had to vanish without a trace, like a real thief.
Before leaving, he came to the bed, leaned over me, and nipped my lower lip gently, tugging slow, with a look that set me on fire again, like he was saying: "I love you." I just closed my eyes, let a half-smile slip, and said nothing. The soft creak of the window opening, the quiet footsteps fading into the night… and done. He was gone.
The house stayed asleep, like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't just been fucked in a way that still had me shaking. Like my body wasn't now marked, wet, throbbing with pleasure and need.
The crime was done. The thief broke in, took what he wanted, and left. He robbed me, and I set it all up to get robbed. And the sure thing is he'll come back. And me… I'll leave the window open again.
Always.