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Marry The Knight	By : Ksennin Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 96995 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics, the Batman franchise, or any other Batman characters. I make no money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
Hot water hissed powerfully from the showerhead that loomed over Bruce and Harley, flushing their skin a light shade of red with its warmth, plastering the clear shower stall glass with condensation, filling its interior with billowing steam, mortaring Harley’s pale blonde hair between her shoulder blades as Bruce took her savagely, ruthlessly, the pristine white tiles of the shower wall creaking ominously as Bruce bombarded them with Harley’s ruthlessly taken body.
Harley was caught between clinging to Bruce’s powerful body, arms and legs affixed to him too tightly for even his slickly wet flesh to slip away from, and throwing her head back to try to vent the feverish pleasure he produced in her. Her young, submissive body was responding to Bruce’s fucking like it had a mind of its own. She rode his cock like a bucking bronco, toes splayed and feet twisting even as her fingernails dug into his back, her face upturned into the heavy shower stream, the water gargling her cries.
“Ohhh yesssharbbjb, more, Brucie, moreblblb!” She spat, face twisting downward, blonde hair webbing across her own face as her body orgasmed for him yet again. “I want your gorgeous cock so baaaaad!” She threw her head back once more, in a scream silenced by her open mouth filling with water.
Bruce stopped suddenly, wanting more from her than just her possession in this single way. Harley was powerless to hold herself to him when he didn’t want her to. Carrying her across the puddled floor of the gargantuan shower, he threw her against the foggy glass and entered her from behind, leaving her body pitched up against the glass. He thought Ivy would like to see her tits and well-used cunt pressed up there for her jealous eyes, if she checked in on them.
Harley adapted quickly, eager to fulfill Bruce’s urges. She tossed her head from side to side, trapping new, errant strands of hair against the glass as her cheeks pressed against it, while her tight ass slammed back against Bruce’s cock. Bruce just stood there, picking up a bar of soap from its dish and casually lathering himself up as Harley desperately fucked herself for him. When he was done, he began sudsing Harley’s back. She spat out the water she’d had obliviously stored in her cheeks, splattering it down the shower door as she instinctively enjoyed his strong touch.
Feeling the suds drip down her wet body, splash down between her splayed feet, Harley had something of a heretical thought. She hoped Bruce would come soon at the same time she wished that this would never end. Such irrational thoughts were par for the course to Harley. This was actually more reasonable than most. She knew Bruce would be able to start fucking her again very soon—perhaps after she’d played with Ivy, or with the redhead joining in. And if Bruce came, she’d feel his creamy load inside her, warmer and more satisfying than Wayne Manor’s endless hot water could ever be. She needed it desperately. She needed everything Bruce could give her, from his warm, soothing coddling to his stern, masterful dominion of her.
Meanwhile, so enthusiastically did Harley slam herself back against Bruce’s cock that she slipped right off the glass he had her pinned to. Now she bent down, as if to touch her toes, but really bracing herself with her hands on the tiled floor, her ass now the highest point of her body. She could look up and see how his huge cock breezed effortlessly through her swollen labia, watch as well as feel herself tensing the trained walls of her cunt, trying to please Bruce as much as he pleased her.
“Holy moly!” Harley moaned as Bruce reached underneath her and almost carelessly began to soap her cunt. But she almost got more pleasure from seeing a throbbing blue vein running the underside of Bruce’s cock. She felt like it was hers; a symptom of Bruce’s lust and love for her.
Harley reached even lower, grabbing Bruce’s ankles where he stood behind her, holding herself tightly still for his fucking. Every time his prick fucked into her, her tight walls expanded—almost unwillingly—to allow room for his size. And when he pulled out, her walls skillfully contracted, clenching and unclenching, milking Bruce as hard as he fucked her.
She was actually facedown on the comparatively cool tiles surrounding the drain, her feet on tippy-toes to keep her pussy high enough for Bruce, when her husband lathered a washcloth with soap and prodded it into Harley’s ass. Inside the washcloth, Bruce’s middle finger pushed into Harley’s small, tight hole, fucking it in perfect tempo with her cunt smashing down on his cock.
“Ohhh, yes, Brucie, that feels great! I’m so fucking hot!” Harley screamed.
“You want me to turn the water down?” Bruce asked sardonically, but for once, the joke was lost on Harley.
His almost dispassionate cleaning of her had Harley moaning loudly in orgasm, her tongue lolling out onto the shower’s grout, not even tasting the soap-tainted water flowing past as she was overwhelmed with the orgasms Bruce gave her from effectively fingering her ass. Bruce actually had her dominated so completely that the combination of physical pleasure and mental distance was running Harley through a series of multiple orgasms, her entire body shuddering, juices from her cunt running down her upside-down stomach to be lost in the shower stream. Likewise with her overjoyed tears.
It took long enough to tax even the mansion’s water heater, but finally, Bruce felt his balls churning below his rigid cock, felt the cum traveling the length of his prick. Sweat pouring from his body, only to be swept away by the water raining down on him, he let his cock jerk and twitch inside Harley’s cunt.
“Done!” he gritted out, and Harley felt the hot rush of his cum filling her slick, clasping pussy to overflowing, so tight that each new ejaculation pushed jism out of her small cunt to run down her trembling legs in thick, creamy rivers. The shower washed it away like so much soap scum. Harley licked the drain to taste the smallest part of it.
Harley was still, but Bruce wasn’t done yet. He gripped her asscheeks firmly, squeezing her trembling ass as he fucked into it hard and fast, pumping cum in and out of her cunt. Harley was so turned on by the sensation of his fucking cock and shooting cum that she thought she would pass out for sure. “Yesss, Brucie, yessss! Give me all your cum, Mistah B! Ohhh, how can you have so much after last night?”
“Always more for you,” Bruce grunted, though he himself was shocked at how furiously he was thrusting into Harley, how much jism he was shooting after so recently ejaculating. The climax he got from fucking Harley Quinn, of all people, was turning out to be one of the great ones of his life.
Just as she’d expected, Harley came again as Bruce’s hot cum spilled out of her, actually splashing down onto her own face. Bruce was hunched over her with his orgasm, Harley desperately glad that his body blocked the shower spray. His cum, mixed with her own juices, was all hers. She nearly ripped her tongue out of her own mouth, licking it from her cheeks.
Bruce pulled back slightly, about to withdraw from Harley, but she stopped him by hugging his ankles tight.
“The only way you get to take your cock out of my pussy,” Harley squealed, “is if you promise to put it in my ass!”
Bruce gave her apple ass a spank. The slight blow was enough to knock Harley off even her gymnastic balance, and she moaned in dismay as she fell over, his half-hard prick popping from her cunt. Still, she looked a vision, sprawled below him on the shower floor. Bruce was reminded of a porno he’d shut down for ties to organized crime, concerning a cheerleader who had a gangbang with the football team in the locker room. Today, he’d been the football team.
“I’ll put it in,” Bruce told her. “But later. After all, we just got your ass clean.”
Rolling over, Harley kissed his foot.
Bruce wondered if he’d had any cum on it.
***
Harley came away from her shower dressed in daisy dukes and a halter top, her hair still wet and her legs still trembling. Ivy gave her a look when she came out of Bruce’s room. Harley gave her a shaky thumbs up.
Bruce came out with his hair neatly combed, slacks and a turtleneck giving him a casual vibe that turned intimidating again on his chiseled face and steely eyes. “Would you like to change?” he asked Ivy. “We’re going into town.”
“This is fine,” Ivy said. A creeping example of her namesake winded up one leg, covering her pubis and breasts in flowery shoots before ending, twined around her neck and hair. It was a look as intimidating as Bruce’s, in its own unconcerned way.
Bruce nodded. They went to the garage. A collection of classic cars that would make Bruce the envy of Speed Racer, though he bypassed them all for a sleek electric concept car that wouldn’t hit the open market for another two years. Seeing it, Ivy was unimpressed. She sniffed disdainfully at the gas-guzzling Aston-Martins and Lamborghinis that lined the walls of the structure as ostentatiously as wine in a cellar.
“Are they going to go green as well?” she asked.
“Think of it this way,” Bruce said. “With me owning them, at least no one else can drive them.”
Harley hummed at his logic. Ivy dead-eyed her as the clown got into the passenger seat, Ivy having the backseat to herself.
They breezed into Gotham. It was a weekday and well after the morning rush, thanks to Harley’s long shower. The road was a straight shot from Wayne Manor to the high-rise district of Gotham, not having to go through the slums or deeper into the more dystopian districts. In short order, they’d arrived at the Mall of Gotham.
It was no Cinnabon-infested multistory supermarket, but a zealously guarded temple to commerce. Sales boutiques and high-class salons took the place of Gamestops or Best Buy outlets, with armed security that had more in common with stormtroopers than Paul Blart, and food-trucks-without-wheels that only sold artisanal cuisine. One place sold only cheeses. That was all. Just cheeses.
The black-visored, would-be SWAT officers eyed Ivy menacingly as she sidled around in the same attire she might’ve worn to hold the place hostage, arm’s length from the happy couple of Bruce and Harley—her arm locked around his as neatly as wrapping paper on Christmas morning.
Bruce had a plan for the outing. While Harley oohed and aahed at the spectacle of the monumental building, and Ivy tsked at the swampland that had been drained to build it, he led them to a particular boutique—not as flashy or upscale as some others, but with a stronger work ethic, deeper roots in Gotham rather than being a fly-by-night outfit from Metropolis or Paris. The owner’s father had been behind his mother’s iconic dresses.
Inside, the proprietor, one Anthony Merkap, greeted Bruce with a warm kiss to either cheek and gushed lovingly over his wives’ looks before breaking down and pleading with Harley to let him give her a less ‘paparazzi shots of an actress going to Wal-Mart for yogurt’ aesthetic. She agreed, after first looking to Ivy and then getting an encouraging nod from Bruce.
The boutique had ridden the wave of gossip from Man of the Year Bruce Wayne marrying two murderous, if chic, supervillains. The latest fashion line mixed Harley’s colors and literally motley motifs with green looks inspired by Ivy. She sneered, but still took an interest in dresses made of living moss or lingerie of intricately woven grass; clothes that were watered instead of washed.
Harley disappeared into the dressing rooms with an armful of options reminiscent of laundry day left to the last second. “Mistah B? Think you could help me into this?”
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping into the dressing room.
Harley had on one hell of an avant-garde look. The tailor had modified a purple and red boyfriend cardigan with a diamond pattern into something a Tamaranian might wear, open at the front with only brown leather straps buckled to hold it over her breasts. The slope of her cleavage was still largely exposed. Her lower body was left entirely bare by the cardigan, modesty preserved by purple briefs, purple and red leggings that continued the diamond motif into shin-high black boots. Her pigtails framed her lovely face, made more alluring by a chic domino mask and a dangling necklace of a skull jester.
“You seem to have the situation in hand.”
Harley preened. Her modest breasts, framed by the impossibly tight ‘bolero vest’ of the garment that revealed more than it obscured, were made positively succulent. He had no difficulty in seeing either their wonderful curves or the cleavage in-between. “Oh, did I say I needed your help getting into this dress? I meant I needed your help getting out of it!”
Bruce turned. Over the closed door to the room, Ivy had drawn Merkap away to barter with him. When he turned back around, he caught his breath again. Harley had turned around as well, and the hot pants hugged her rounded buttocks like a glove, the line that divided her luscious cheeks extravagantly detailed by their tightness, while the soft initial curving of her ass was tantalizingly visible between the ‘coat tails’ of her cardigan, drawing attention with jingle-bells at the end of each tail. Especially with a translucent lace panel topping the back of her bottoms. She wagged her ass at him. Ringalingaling.
“Think you could take this off of me? It’s sooooo tight!”
She twisted to look at him. He saw her left nipple inside her vest. It was full and erect. Then she spun back onto her tiptoes, facing away from him, thrusting her buttocks back, bending over to make them even more prominent. Bruce’s cock was fully erect, smothering inside his boxers. He reached for her panties.
“Your ass this time,” he said. “Like I promised.”
***
“Anything in leather?” Ivy asked Merkap as he followed her sheepishly in rummaging through his stock.
“Well, yes—“ he admitted sheepishly. “Sorry, I know you’re one of those PETA types…”
“Oh, no, I’d love to wear a dead animal. Show me what you’ve got. And make sure it’s in black.” If Wayne thought he could dom Harley better than her, he was in for a rude awakening.
“OH FUCK!” Harley cried suddenly, her shrill voice rising well above the store’s gentle orchestral background music.
“Good heavens!” Merkap spun around. “Do you think everything’s alright?”
“She’s fine,” Ivy said without bothering to turn. “Probably just trying to get into one of your clearance items. Something’s just too damn tight.”
***
Harley was bent over the pile of clothes she had brought into the changing room, her unbuckled cardigan now thrown over her head, leaving her bare from her shoulder blades on down. Her teeth grinded on one of the coattails that had so recently hidden her ass. While it had only accomplished that goal halfway, it served far better at muffling Harley as she repeated her recent outcry of pleasured violation, now at a level only Bruce could hear.
And he quite enjoyed hearing it, kneeling behind Harley, forcing himself inside her quite possibly virgin asshole. It was a tight fit, but his lubricant was ample, and his fingers had been forceful in opening her up. His complete taking of her ass was a virtual certainty.
Though Harley’s face was hidden from him, Bruce saw a bell fall to the ground. Snipped off by Harley biting through her coattail.
His back strained to maintain his rocking tempo, while his cock tried desperately not to give into her tiny ass’s tightness and warmth. Harley tightened her canal, rolled her ass, winding his cock inside her like a crank and screwing her empty cunt against thigh muscles as hard as boulders. She was trying to rub out the fire that had burnt her body down to raw nerve endings.
“Oh, Brucie, it’s coming… it’s coming!”
Putting up a leg so that he was on one knee, and thus more erect, Bruce reached under the cardigan to find Harley’s head and pushed it down into the floor. She obediently raised her ass in counterpoint, and with much greater ease he pushed his cock in and out of her ass.
Bruce could feel his self-control coming to any end. His balls were tensing, expanding, counting down to an explosion. He felt Harley’s open lips, screaming against his palm. As he slid a finger between them, Bruce thrust his cock in with all his might, watching as the entire shaft disappeared into the tiny opening between Harley’s taut cheeks.
He could feel Harley’s tongue flapping as she tried to form words. “Oh Jesus!” and “I’m coming!” and of course, “Fuck me hard!” He pulled on her cheek like he was reeling in a fish, his hooked finger yanking Harley’s head back, forcing her to stay aware of what has happening to her even as she came. Then, sure she was his, Bruce let a great shudder of carnal fulfillment go through him. His swollen balls boiled over, thick, heavy streams of cum diving for Harley’s bowels.
The leaden warmth filled an emptiness Harley had never known she’d had, triggering another delirious response from her. She raked her nails across the carpet, screaming with unabated lust into the three fingers Bruce now had stuffed into her mouth. Bruce groaned for him, feeling her anus suck at his still spewing shaft, already hungry for more of his seed.
Still he fucked her. His hips pounded against her ass with such force that the slapping sound stung the air around them. Even though his cock was slowly softening, Harley had lost none of her enthusiasm for it. She tightened her anus, trying to revive it, rolling forward and rocking back, grinding her hips around, anything to eke some last little pleasure from his deflating cock.
“Fuck me!” Harley babbled with the ringing ecstasy of her satisfaction. “Fuck my ass!”
Bruce tried to, for her sake, but his cock had met its match for now. He let Harley keep squeezing it, massaging it in long rippling waves, until it slipped out of her now gaping asshole. Her sweaty body, weighted down by the load of semen in her ass, fell into a limp heap like it was one more empty garment piled onto the stack.
Bruce sat next to her, his aching cock completely flaccid, smeared with cooling sperm. He patted Harley’s ass for a job well-done.
“So,” he said, wheezing breathlessly, “do you like the dress?”
***
They bought it. They bought jewelry, they bought hats, they even bought furs, just because that was Harley’s idea of what rich people wore. It reminded Ivy of a few years back when they’d dosed Wayne with pollen and gone on a holiday season shopping spree. They hadn’t used him for sex though. They’d only needed each other.
This time, though, Harley carried all the bags. Bruce had a telephone call. Ivy kept eying him as they waited in line for pretzels. The last time, they’d made Bruce pay for everything. Now, Ivy paid for their lunch. She’d pay for the movie, too. There was a nature documentary starting at the Cineplex in ten minutes. Plenty of animals for Harley to look at.
Bruce hung up his phone, walking back to join them. “That was Lucius Fox.”
“A talking fox?” Harley cried.
Ivy rolled her eyes. She didn’t think getting fucked nearly constantly was doing anything to help Harley’s attention span. “What’d he want?”
“Just something that’s come up at Wayne Enterprises. It won’t take an hour. Would you care to join me? Wayne Tower has quite the spectacular view.”
“Sure!” Harley chimed before Ivy could say anything.
She huffed a sigh, but then gave an agreeable shrug. Bruce hadn’t bought her affections, but he had bought a lot of nice things. The least she could do was make his last few days on Earth congenial.
“Would you mind driving?” Bruce asked her.
***
Ivy hadn’t even turned the key in the ignition before Bruce was on Harley. He tailed her into the backseat, sitting down pressed against her, reaching down the front of her briefs and popping a finger inside her like someone would feed themselves a bit of candy.
He glided it in and out of Harley as she tangled her hands in the seatbelt. Arched up for his finger with eager excitement, and hunching over his hand in little surges that fucked his finger as much as it fucked her. Ivy looked in the rear-view to see Harley pulled down Bruce’s zipper, his hard cock springing out, her fist catching it, caressing it.
“Drive,” Bruce told Ivy, and she forced herself to think of the way to Wayne Tower.
“Oh, we’re gonna miss the movie!” Harley moaned, tugging harshly at Bruce’s prick.
Bruce was suddenly pulling her down to the seat cushions, climbing on top of her, the grinding of his hips opening up her drenched thighs. “We can catch the next showing.”
“Promisssssssss!?” Harley’s question turned into a sob as Bruce jabbed into her, pumping instantly. Harley was immediately clawing at his back, wrapping her legs around his waist, taking all of his familiar cock and crying out for more. “Yes, Brucie, do it! Give it—give—ahhhhh!”
Harley reached upwards, planting her palms against the window of the door Bruce’s thrusts were in danger of driving her into His cock pounded inside her, full of violent need, filling her too full for her to have enough room to catch her breath. He drove the breath out of her in shaky gasps.
Ivy kept her eyes on the road, right up until they hit one of those long Gotham lights—one more thing to hate about the shithole. And the light turned red just before her turn in line. She was stuck there.
“I love this so much!” Harley said, striking Ivy with the simplicity of the sentiment. Obviously, Harley was ever one for simple-mindedness, but…
“I love it too,” Bruce huffed, cruel mouth giving her a respite from the hickeys he was inflicting on her neck. Ivy wondered how many Harley would have by the end of the day. “I want you to keep giving me that juicy little cunt. I need it.”
“It’s all yours!” Harley moaned over and over.
A honking horn behind them. The light had turned green. Ivy hit the gas, eyes front just as Bruce arched his back and fucked himself even deeper into Harley’s cunt. His loaded balls slapped wetly against her ass. Harley loved it all.
But she needed more. She was totally wanton, she knew it. Sluttier than she’d ever been with the Joker. A bitch in heat. She just couldn’t get enough of Bruce’s huge cock inside her.
She would have to, though. Soon, Ivy would take him out, and then Harley would just have to remember what it felt like—having a guy fuck her like she’d actually imagined a guy would fuck her. Maybe they could make a sex tape—
An orgasm abruptly shook Harley’s cunt, so sudden it was like the car’d been rear-ended. Her legs kicked out, actually making the bulletproof glass of the window on Bruce’s side flex outward as she pressed against it. Her hands were doing the same on her window, but she just managed to pry one away and wrap it around Bruce’s back clutching him even closer to her writhing body. He was like a magician who practiced a trick, each time refining it, doing it faster, better. Only his training was her. His trick was giving her multiple orgasms where otherwise she might be lucky to get one.
Somehow, though, despite how pleasurable it was to come for him, it wasn’t satisfying. Every time she climaxed, she needed to come again and again. And everything she needed, Bruce gave her.
Ivy drove, eying alleyways, parking garage, tunnels. Anywhere she could hide the car for a while to—
She turned on the radio. Even pathetic mammalian bleating was better than listening to Harley… come.
Bruce fucked furiously into Harley’s pussy. He groaned with pleasure every time her cunt tensed in orgasm. Her head was drifting from side to side, eyes rolling back in her head, and he gripped her by the hair to force her to look at him. As he did so, he saw his wedding band, glinting as if reflecting the light of her ring where her hand was splayed on the window. It occurred to him that he was damn lucky to have such a beautiful, charming bride. And that she fucked like a high-priced whore.
Harley was drooling now. Deciding she’d had enough, Bruce let himself come. Harley cooed as she felt him gush inside her, her strong arms unwinding to run through his hair, over his face, lovingly caressing his features as he watched her with equal warmth. Then Harley’s eyes blinked shut.
Bruce pulled out of her, tucked his wet cock away, and straightened Harley’s dress over her lower body. As soon as he’d sat up straight, Harley followed him up. Eyes still closed, she curled up with her head in his lap. Bruce let her rest. They were halfway to Wayne Tower.
There’d be more to do when they got there.
***
Just before they reached Wayne Tower, Harley woke up from her nap. She got up, stretched, and went right back to resting her head happily on Bruce’s shoulder. Ivy could feel her hands trembling on the steering wheel. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for this. She should’ve been in the backseat with Harley, eating her out—well, having Harley eat her out—letting Bruce see what he couldn’t really have, what soon he’d never have again.
They pulled up to the guard station, rolling down their windows. Seeing Ivy driving, the guard instinctively drew back, one hand going for his taser, the other reaching for the silent alarm, but Bruce leaned out of the backseat window. “It’s alright, Cary. They’re with me.”
“Oh, right—you all got… married,” the guard said sheepishly. Belatedly detaching his hand from his holster, he buzzed them in. They got a similar greeting from the receptionist, but she was quick to hide it under a sunny smile, ushering the three to the express elevator. As it so happened, they’d arrived just as a suite of executives were returning from their lunches, so a group of about half-a-dozen piled into the fortunately spacious elevator, Bruce and his wives in the back.
The executives were gracious about Bruce, but somewhat scared of him—moreso the women. Bruce was amused to find them trying to ignore him after they’d gone up a few floors and exchanged some pleasantries. Everyone was facing front, checking their phones, finishing off drinks. Harley was standing in front of him. He looked down her body. There was a rip in her briefs already. He just got into such a hurry to take them off…
The elevator dinged its arrival at the accounting floor, two getting off, one getting on. Bruce brushed aside Harley’s coattails, staring openly at her ass. She turned her head slightly. He could see her blushing. The black briefs hugged her ass incredibly tightly: he could see where it curved, where it divided. Harley gave her ass a wiggle. It was a nice show.
The elevator stopped again. More off. More on. Then it jolted into motion once more.
Bruce reached forward. He groped Harley’s ass, squeezing both cheeks with one hand, his middle finger rubbing up the stem between her sex and her anus. It rose higher, coming to her asshole, which flexed hard against his callused fingertip.
Harley’s jaw dropped. She pushed her ass against his hand. He pushed in with his finger, the tip stretching her briefs, pushing it inside her hole. It felt warm. His cock felt cold.
Ivy happened to look back. She saw Bruce fondling Harley. Probing her. First she saw Harley biting her lip, then Harley’s erect nipples, then Bruce’s hand almost between her legs. Then she watched as Bruce pulled down Harley’s briefs—not all the way, just the back, tucking them under the dimple where Harley’s buttocks met her thighs. He unzipped himself.

Ivy looked away hurriedly. But Bruce could see her shifting her weight. He could read her body language. He knew by the way she craned her neck that she was trying to hear it when he maneuvered himself being Harley’s silky thighs, once more found himself in Harley’s juicy little cunt. It was wetter than ever.
Harley was trying to stay quiet, he knew, but he also knew by the cocking of her head that she was about to cry out. Quick as a flash, he seized her mouth, shoved his hand down to the front of her crotch to still her writhing crotch, then forced her onto the skewer of his hard cock. He penetrated her slowly. Deliciously. Quietly.
He felt her low moan against his hand. He didn’t hear a thing. He took his hand away. Eased himself in further. Harley clamped her lips together, trying to stifle her cries of pleasure with all the sanity she had.
Everyone was still facing forward, and if they glanced around, no one looked down below waist level, where all the action was happening. That just excited her more, being fucked in public, just where anyone could see—like when she was pulling a job and wore a disguise, walked among people who didn’t know how dangerous she was. Now they didn’t know what a dirty, dirty girl they were ignoring.
At last he was all the way in her, his cock hitting home inside her, Harley feeling so damn content having him inside her, but also feeling the slow hunger of needing him to fuck her. She knew he was the same way. He was just savoring the moment, his manhood throbbing against every inch of her fiery sex.
Then, Harley got a text. Her head jerked up in confusion. She’d been lost with Bruce in their own little world. Her phone buzzed again. People were starting to stir, check their pockets to see if it was them. Hurriedly, Harley fished her phone out, meaning only to silence it. Then she was who it was from.
Bruce.
YOU LIKE IT, BITCH?
He had one hand on her hip, holding her steady as he undulated against her, while his other worked his phone. Harley could use both of her hands to respond, and she did, creaming like crazy, feeling like at any moment her cunt would overflow.
SHITYES I LOE VIT I WNAT YOU TO FUCK M EGOOD WITH THAT BI G COCK!!!!!!
JUST WHAT I HAD IN MIND.
The elevator stopped again. Some got on, some got off. Most didn’t even notice Bruce and Harley. Ivy was standing in front of them, her ample curves more than distraction enough, her expression enough to scare off most inquiries.
As soon as the elevator was in motion again, Bruce was fucking Harley—slow, sensuous thrusts that brought her inexorably to the boiling point. She wanted to bend over and take his cock as deep as it would go, but she knew she had to stand still, to take her fucking without a word. She was Bruce’s good girl. Later, she could be bad. She could make him punish her.
LET ME IN DEEP, a new text read.
The screen of Harley’s phone smeared with sweat as she replied. OHH H YEA FUCK ME HONET FUCK ME AL NIGHT LONG
I WILL.
But right now, they couldn’t. They’d be at the top floor soon. They’d be able to have this one fuck, but that was all. Harley had to make the most of it. She took one hand off her phone, reached down, and found her clit demanding her touch. Just like the elevator car, she was rising steadily upwards. And just like that bomb she’d set once, when she got to the top, she’d explode.
Harley looked up, checking to see if anyone had noticed yet, almost hoping someone had. She barely stifled a gasp when she saw Ivy looking back at her. The redhead was making a point of checking her make-up in her compact, but really she was watching Harley’s face as the girl tried desperately not to give away how close she was to orgasm. Harley grinned helplessly at her. In the mirror, Harley saw Ivy smile back. It wasn’t a nice smile. In fact, it was the kind Harley had used to get when she was about to end up wrapped in vines.
She liked those smiles.
She heard another phone rattling, but it wasn’t hers. It was coming from behind her. Bruce reached past her, holding his phone, showing her the message he’d received. It was from Ivy.
FUCK HER HARD AND MAKE HER COME
Harley closed her eyes as she came, leaning back against Bruce as her clasping cunt brought him off. Once more, she felt the burning wetness of his ejaculation inside her.
She didn’t know how she’d ever lived without it.
Finished, Bruce pulled her briefs back into place, trapping his cum inside her. The front turned dark from their mingled fluids, the coat-tails dangling in front not enough to obscure the wet spot. Anyone who looked at her crotch would know what had happened.
She tried to take a step away from Bruce, further covering up their actions, but lurched unsteadily, having to grab hold of the elevator’s hand-rail to keep upright. She got a few glances from the executives, and a knowing one from Ivy. Green eyes darted down to her wet spot. Harley pressed her thighs tight together. She could still feel his cum inside her, dripping into the panties no matter how hard she squeezed her thighs.
The elevator dinged. This was their floor.
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Marry The Knight