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Black Cat Caught by Spidey
4 months ago
30K (30,202)
0:19
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https://www.patreon.com/imena3d
Spidey had her pinned against the main display case, his palms braced on the cold glass on either side of her as the red and blue of the patrol cars outside strobed through the front window, turning the room into a frantic, rhythmic blur. Felicia was bent over forward, her fingertips agonizingly close to the diamond jewel she’d spent weeks tracking, but her momentum was dead, anchored by the heavy, proprietary weight of the hero behind her.
The air between them was thick, charged with the wailing of the police sirens in the distance and the ragged, shallow sound of her own breath. Every time he shifted his thurst into her, a soft, frustrated moan—“Mmmgh, Peter…”—vibrated through her, her knuckles turning white against the edge of the case. She was caught in a pincer move between the law closing in outside and the unrelenting, steady rhythm he was dictating inside. It was an apprehension; a total dismantling of her poise, a slow-burn surrender where the thrill of the heist was being systematically replaced by a much more primal, overwhelming pounding.
He leaned down, his mask brushing against her cheek as he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that made her knees feel like water. "You're not going anywhere with that, Felicia," he rasped, though his grip only tightened on her hips, driving his throbbing cock into her. She let out a sharp, shattered gasp—“Oh God”—as she finally let go of the glass, her eyes fluttering shut as the sirens reached a crescendo outside. In the flickering light of the store, the boundary between justice and indulgence snapped, leaving her breathless and broken in the web of a man who knew exactly how to make her stay.
https://www.patreon.com/imena3d
Spidey had her pinned against the main display case, his palms braced on the cold glass on either side of her as the red and blue of the patrol cars outside strobed through the front window, turning the room into a frantic, rhythmic blur. Felicia was bent over forward, her fingertips agonizingly close to the diamond jewel she’d spent weeks tracking, but her momentum was dead, anchored by the heavy, proprietary weight of the hero behind her.
The air between them was thick, charged with the wailing of the police sirens in the distance and the ragged, shallow sound of her own breath. Every time he shifted his thurst into her, a soft, frustrated moan—“Mmmgh, Peter…”—vibrated through her, her knuckles turning white against the edge of the case. She was caught in a pincer move between the law closing in outside and the unrelenting, steady rhythm he was dictating inside. It was an apprehension; a total dismantling of her poise, a slow-burn surrender where the thrill of the heist was being systematically replaced by a much more primal, overwhelming pounding.
He leaned down, his mask brushing against her cheek as he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that made her knees feel like water. "You're not going anywhere with that, Felicia," he rasped, though his grip only tightened on her hips, driving his throbbing cock into her. She let out a sharp, shattered gasp—“Oh God”—as she finally let go of the glass, her eyes fluttering shut as the sirens reached a crescendo outside. In the flickering light of the store, the boundary between justice and indulgence snapped, leaving her breathless and broken in the web of a man who knew exactly how to make her stay.
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