My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 191: Cross Estate (4)

Cammy’s mind spiraled, torn between pleasure and panic. In front of her, Greg drove into her with relentless precision, his movements steady yet punishing, claiming her inch by inch.

Behind her, the cabin’s door loomed—a fragile barrier between them and the two flashlights cutting through the darkness outside.

The voices were getting closer.

"They must be here. You saw the golf cart they used earlier, right? It’s parked just by the roadside, and this is the only place nearby."

"Maybe they went somewhere else. The lights in the cabin are off. Maybe they went to the pond."

Cammy’s heart pounded. She suddenly understood. Two workers from the mansion—the flashlights weren’t random. They were searching. Looking for them. They were searching for them.

Her body tensed beneath Greg. "G-Greg, we have t-to go," she barely managed to whisper between stifled moans, the pleasure strangling her words.

Greg groaned, frustration evident in the way his fingers dug into her thighs. "Ah, fucking annoying," he muttered. But instead of stopping, instead of letting her go—he did the opposite.

Without warning, he pulled her legs around his waist and lifted her effortlessly, keeping them connected, his cock still buried deep inside her.

"Hold on. Now."

Confused, Cammy obeyed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her through the dark cabin, his every step still pressing him deliciously inside her.

He moved fast, his breath ragged, and she felt every movement, every inch of him as he reached for a tiny door tucked away in the corner.

He yanked it open. A pantry. Small, dark, lined with shelves and a wooden cabinet.

Greg stepped inside and swiftly locked the door. Then, with one powerful motion, he placed her on the cabinet, her back against the wooden wall, her legs still hooked around him.

"G-Greg—" she tried, her voice trembling with both arousal and fear, but he didn’t let her finish.

His large hand covered her mouth, his gaze molten with untamed hunger.

"Shh... Be quiet," he whispered, his voice a low growl, heavy with lust and frustration. "I can’t stop now. If I do, I might fire those bastards for disturbing us."

And then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed into her, filling her to the hilt, making her nearly scream—if not for the firm hand muffling her cries.

Her body quaked beneath him, her fingers clawing at his back as he set a brutal, desperate rhythm, fucking her in the tiny, forbidden space while just outside, the men continued their search.

The danger. The thrill. The raw, reckless hunger.

It was intoxicating.

And Greg had no intention of stopping.

Then—the creak of the cabin door.

Cammy’s breath hitched, her entire body tensing as footsteps echoed through the small space. Voices drifted in, casual, unsuspecting—but dangerously close.

’Fuck! My underwear!’

Panic gripped her as she suddenly remembered—Greg had tossed it somewhere in the cabin, a reckless afterthought in the heat of their desire. If one of them saw it... if they realized...

But before her mind could spiral further, Greg’s strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his sweat-slicked body. The heat of him was overwhelming, his grip possessive, unyielding.

Then, his lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, sinful growl.

"Fuck, I’m so close," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. His hips flexed, pressing deeper, filling her so completely she nearly gasped. "But I’m not gonna release it until you do first."

A whimper caught in her throat.

His teeth grazed the shell of her ear. His fingers dug into her waist.

"Cum for me, Cammy."

His command was dark, dangerous—an order wrapped in velvet, dripping with lust.

The world outside blurred into nothing. The footsteps. The voices. The risk of being caught.

All that existed now was him.

And the pleasure he was about to unleash.

Cammy shut out everything that wasn’t Greg. The world outside, the footsteps, the voices—they all faded into oblivion.

The only thing that mattered was the man in front of her, the way he moved, the way he filled her, the way he ignited every nerve in her body like a live wire.

The pleasure was intoxicating. Overwhelming. She needed more.

Greg’s breath was hot against her ear, his voice deep, raw, commanding. "Cammy, I want to feel you beating around me. Suck me in like there’s no tomorrow. Touch yourself."

A shudder wracked through her body at his words, and without hesitation, she obeyed. She slid her hand between their bodies, fingertips finding the swollen nub aching for attention.

A gasp slipped past her lips as she rubbed herself, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Greg groaned, his grip on her tightening. "Ahh, fucking pussy, so greedy," he growled into her ear. His voice was thick with lust, dark and possessive. "Move your hand faster."

She did.

Her fingers worked in desperate circles, pushing herself higher, driving them both to the edge. The pleasure built like a raging storm, her body trembling, tightening—until she felt it. The inevitable, the uncontrollable.

Her walls clenched around him in rhythmic spasms, pulsing, milking his cock as pleasure detonated through her.

"Fuckkk!" she moaned, the sound muffled against Greg’s hand as her entire body convulsed. Her legs trembled violently, her toes curling, her mind blank with bliss.

Greg groaned, feeling her tighten, her greedy pussy pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go. And then, with one final thrust, he shattered. His grip on her hips turned bruising as he came, his release hot and deep, filling her completely.

She felt every pulse, every jet of warmth spilling inside her. It was possessive. Addictive. Consuming.

Greg buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath ragged, his body still pressed against hers. "You are so fucking addicting, baby. I want to be inside you like this, always." His voice was hoarse, covered with raw desire.

The only sound in the tiny pantry was their heavy breathing, the echoes of their release still lingering between them.

Silence settled over the cabin.

The voices were gone. The workers had left.

And now, it was just them—panting, sweaty, completely undone.

Trapped in the heat of their secret.

And completely unwilling to let go.