Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 387: Mira’s Anxious Echo

I didn’t just want her—I needed to own her, to sear myself into every inch of her until she forgot her own name, until the only thing she knew was the way I filled her, stretched her, ruined her.

My hands gripped her hips like a warning, fingers bruising into her softness as I lined myself up. There was no teasing, no buildup—just the raw, animalistic need to take.

I slammed home in one brutal thrust, burying every inch to the hilt, her walls fluttering and clenching around me like they were trying to drag me deeper, to swallow me whole.

She screamed—my name, a prayer, a curse—her nails raking down my back, drawing blood, marking me as hers just as surely as I was marking her. Her legs locked behind me, heels digging into my ass, urging me on, demanding more.

”Yours—yours—yours—” Her voice was a broken litany, breathless and desperate, her body already trembling on the edge. ”Fuck—harder—deeper—breed your jealous wife—cum inside—flood me—make me leak you all day—ahh—yes—like that—fuck—FUCK—DEXTER—!”

I lost myself in the rhythm of her, in the way her body surrendered to mine. Every thrust was a claim, deep and punishing, my balls slapping against her ass with a wet, obscene sound. The room was thick with the scent of sex—sweat, arousal, the musk of her need—and the sharp, stinging smack of my hand against her already-reddened cheeks echoed like a metronome, driving us both closer to the edge.

She came with a scream, her body convulsing around me, her pussy fluttering and gushing, soaking the sheets beneath us. I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The sight of her—spread out, trembling, mine

—only stoked the fire higher.
I flipped her onto her stomach, my grip unrelenting as I yanked her hips up, forcing her onto her knees. She whimpered as I drove back into her from behind, my hand fisting in her hair, pulling her head back so I could growl into her ear, my lips brushing the shell of it.

”Say it again.” My voice was a dark, possessive rumble. ”Whose wife are you?”

”Yours—only yours—” Her voice cracked, her body already tightening around me again. ”Fuck—your jealous little slut—your cum-dump—your everything—please—cum in me—fill me—breed me—make my womb yours again—ah—yes—yes—DEEPER!”

The words sent me crashing over the edge. With one last, brutal thrust, my release tore through me, my balls drawing up tight as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded her depths.

I could feel it—pulse after pulse, filling her so completely that it immediately started leaking out around my cock, dripping down her thighs in creamy white streams.

She shuddered through another orgasm, her body milking me dry, her whimpers turning into a broken, breathless chant of my name.

When I finally pulled out, a thick glob of cum oozed from her swollen, gaping pussy, glistening obscenely in the dim light. She collapsed forward, her ass still raised, her cheeks flushed, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

For long minutes, we lay there—sweaty, spent, tangled together—her fingers reaching back to lace with mine. The room was a wreck: the sheets ruined, the air heavy with the scent of sex, the headboard knocking against the wall in the aftermath of our frenzy.

Eventually, I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, my lips lingering against her skin. ”I have to go see Mira,” I murmured, already dreading the separation. ”Angela and Lisa are still at the base.”

She tensed for half a second, jealousy flickering in her eyes like a struck match. Then she sighed, rolling over to pull me into a slower, softer kiss, her lips swollen and bruised from mine.

”Go,” she whispered against my mouth. ”But come back to me. Fast.” Her fingers traced the lines of my chest, her touch possessive, almost desperate.

”And when you do... I want you to fuck me again. Harder. Until I can’t walk. Until the only thing I remember is how full you make me feel.”

I captured her wrist, pressing a kiss to her pulse point before pulling her into another searing kiss. ”Promise.”

She watched as I dressed, her gaze tracking every movement—jeans, shirt, the sleek black jetpack harness clicking into place across my chest. There was something primal in the way her eyes darkened, something that made my cock twitch with the promise of round two.

At the balcony doors, I turned back.

She was still propped on her elbows, her legs spread, my cum leaking from her, her eyes locked on me with that fierce, loving possessiveness that never failed to set my blood on fire.

”Fly safe,” she said softly, her voice husky with spent desire. ”And hurry home to your jealous wife.”

I grinned, stepping into the crisp morning air. The jetpack ignited with a roar, lifting me into the sky.

The world unfolded beneath me as I soared, the wind whipping past my face, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

I activated the world map function, the holographic display flickering to life in front of me. Red dots clustered in one location—Angela, Lisa, Megan, Jack, Nicole, Hailey, and the others. They were all there, accounted for.

But Mira’s dot was missing.

A cold knot formed in my gut. I zoomed in, scanning the terrain, and there it was—a lone blip, deep in the forest, moving erratically. My instincts flared. Something was wrong.

I angled the jetpack, cutting through the sky like a blade. The trees blurred beneath me, their tops rustling in the wind as I descended, my boots hitting the ground with a soft thud.

I landed a short distance away, tucking the jetpack back into the system space, my senses sharpening as I listened.

That’s when I heard it.

”Dexter... Dexter... Dexter...”

Her voice was frantic, laced with anxiety, cutting through the forest like a knife. My name on her lips wasn’t a call—it was a plea.

I moved toward the sound, my pulse quickening. She must have been searching for me.

Angela and Lisa must have told her I wasn’t there, and Mira—loyal, fierce Mira—would have come looking. The thought of her out here alone, vulnerable, sent a surge of protectiveness through me.

I quickened my pace, pushing through the undergrowth. The forest was dense, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp leaves.

Then, through the trees, I saw her—a flash of dark hair, her body tense as she spun in a circle, her voice rising again.

”Dexter!”

I stepped forward, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. ”Mira.”

She whirled around, her eyes wide with relief, her chest heaving. For a second, she just stared at me, as if she couldn’t believe I was real.

Then she launched herself at me, her arms wrapping around my waist, her face pressing into my chest.

”You’re here,” she breathed, her voice muffled against my shirt. ”I was—fuck—I was so worried.”

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight. ”I’m here,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. ”What happened?”

She pulled back just enough to look up at me, her expression serious. ”Angela and Lisa said....”

”They said you’d gone to check for food, but...” She hesitated, her fingers tightening on my arms.

I cupped her face, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone. ”I’m fine,” I said firmly. ”And I’m here now.”