NOVGO.NET Chapter 1058 Daylight
Chapter 1058: Chapter 1058 Daylight
Miku felt as though she were drowning in a tide of sensation—waves of fire and bliss crashing over her in relentless succession.
Her body, once cautious, now moved entirely of its own accord.
Her hands gripped his broad shoulders and held on for dear life, her back arching, stomach tightening, and hips thrusting in perfect, instinctive harmony with the pleasure consuming her.
She was utterly lost, completely surrendered—helpless, exhilarated, and trembling with the intensity of it all.
The wet, lewd sounds of their bodies colliding filled the room—slaps of skin against skin, slick, rhythmic thrusts, desperate moans and gasps.
"Ahhhhhh!" Miku’s voice rose higher with each wave, raw, ragged, unrestrained, as though the sound itself was a measure of her surrender.
Her multiple orgasms continued, unrelenting, her body pulsing with every clench, every squeeze, and every subtle motion of Ross’s expert movements.
Minutes—or maybe hours—seemed to pass in the haze of heat and desire.
Miku’s mind spun, her body a blur of motion, her senses overwhelmed.
Each orgasm seemed to eclipse the one before, leaving her gasping, trembling, and utterly consumed.
Her first multiple orgasms in her life had arrived, and they were nothing short of a revelation.
She had never imagined such sensations could exist, never believed a body could feel this completely alive and tormented all at once.
Even as exhaustion set in, even as her voice cracked and her limbs shook, her cunt continued to pulse around him, desperate for more, her body refusing to relent.
Ross’s hands, his cock, his very presence had claimed her entirely, and there was no turning back.
She was utterly, deliciously, irreversibly his—lost in waves of pleasure she could neither stop nor deny.
Miku’s world swam, the frantic, desperate pace of the last few minutes slowing to a syrupy, distant hum.
The sharp edges of the room—the grimy floorboards, the boarded-up window, the oppressive silence of the abandoned house—blurred into a meaningless backdrop.
Her consciousness had shrunk to the single, overwhelming point of contact: the solid, unyielding plane of Ross’s chest beneath her cheek, the damp heat of their joined skin, the frantic hammering of her own heart that was slowly, gradually, decelerating to match the steady, powerful rhythm of his.
He held her, his arms a loose but inescapable cage, allowing her a moment to recover while she lay utterly spent, sprawled across him like a shipwreck survivor clinging to a rock.
Her muscles were liquid, her will a tattered flag.
As the shimmering haze of her climax began to recede, leaving behind a body humming with aftershocks, she felt the subtle shift in him.
His lips, surprisingly soft, brushed the delicate shell of her ear, and his whisper was a hot, intimate intrusion into the fragile peace she had momentarily found.
"You came so much, Miku," he murmured, his voice thick with a smug, possessive satisfaction that made her stomach clench.
"I guess all this danger has kept you and your husband... celibate. Lucky me." The words were a deliberate violation, a reminder of the life she had lost, the vows that felt a million miles away.
He was marking his territory not just on her body, but in her history.
"But now," he continued, the tone shifting from gloating to command, "It’s my turn to come also."
The statement was a guillotine blade dropping. Before the protest in a weak, strangled voice...
"No..." the word didn’t fully leave her lips, Ross hands, which had moments before been a steadying presence, became instruments of purpose.
They gripped her hips with an authority that brooked no argument, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs.
He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, her body a pliant doll, and then lowered her, guiding her onto the formidable, rigid length of him.
A fresh wave of panic, cold and sharp as shattered glass, cut through her lingering weakness.
This was no longer the frantic, hot collision of before; this was a calculated, selfish taking.
"No... you can’t, Ross. You can’t come in me," she pleaded, her voice a strained, thin thing, stripped of all power.
She tried to push against his chest, but her arms were leaden, her resistance a pathetic tremor.
"I’ll get pregnant." The thought was not a single fear, but a cascade of terrors, each more devastating than the last.
Becoming pregnant in this world was a primal dread, a biological trap.
But becoming pregnant by Ross, a man she feared and resented, and not by the gentle, loving husband whose face was already beginning to blur in her memory—that was a betrayal of a different, more intimate magnitude.
It was the final, irrevocable severing of her past self. And more than anything, the sheer, monstrous insanity of bringing a new, helpless life into this zombie-infested hellscape, where every day was a struggle for food and safety, where the air itself smelled of decay—it was the ultimate death sentence.
It would be a death sentence for her, her body weakened and vulnerable, and a death sentence for the child, born into a world that had no place for innocence.
But her pleas were whispers against a hurricane.
She was helpless, her body still trembling and treacherously pliant from the pleasure he had wrung from it.
He was far too strong, his movements growing more frantic, his breath hot and ragged against her neck as his control frayed.
She could only cling to him, her fingers curling against his sweat-slicked shoulders, her face buried in the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds of her despair.
The world narrowed to the brutal, piston-like rhythm, the friction that was now a painful reminder of her powerlessness.
A few desperate, eternal minutes later, she felt it—a sudden, deep, pulsing heat, a series of intimate detonations deep within her cunt.
He shuddered, a guttural groan ripped from his throat, and stilled, holding her impossibly close.
A broken moan escaped her lips then.
"Ohhhhh..." A sound of pure, desolate realization.
The sensation, the shocking, final intimacy of it, triggered one last, involuntary climax of her own, a traitorous spasm that wracked her exhausted body with a shameful echo of pleasure.