Jan. Week 3: Frozen--Leah doesn't let him fuck her ass.

“Sorry but that can take a bit of prep—not really something to just wing. Unless you want to be a messy snowman.” Leah chidded him.

Mr. Baker grinned, caught somewhere between disappointment and delight, as he relented on his ambition to stake new ground.

"Fine, fine," he said, voice thick with lust and a shade of resignation. "We’ll save that scene for the sequels." For a split second, Leah almost pitied the man—so pent up, so clearly deprived of any actual affection that he sought validation by playing director in his own bottom-shelf smut opera.

He wasted no more time with preamble—just plunged into her with a single, greedy stroke, the **** of it knocking the air from Leah’s lungs in a gasp that was half pain, half genuine shock. The static camera’s red dot blinked at them from the shelf, a digital cyclops capturing every shudder and thrust from a fixed, unblinking gaze. The camera was trained on her ass as he narrated his personal highlight reel as he pounded into her, the slap of skin on skin punctuating each line of his commentary.

"Fuck, you take it so good," he groaned, fingers digging into her sides hard enough to bruise. "Elsa, you like it rough, huh?"

Leah bit down on a derisive laugh, her cheek mashed to the synthetic cushion.

"Always thought Elsa was cold, but damn, you’re melting me," she spat out between ragged breaths, feeling his cock spear deeper with each word.

"Yeah? Guess I’m the fire to your ice," he shot back. The wit was tragic, but so was their situation, and Leah found herself stifling a snort even as he pistoned into her, angling for the camera like a true performer.

He kept up the relentless rhythm, fucking her with a vigor that felt more like desperation than dominance. Each thrust sent ripples along her thighs and up her spine, the sequins of the Elsa costume scraping her skin raw in places. He reached around, groped at her tits through the bodice, and gave the blonde wig a playful tug so that it flopped comically over her shoulder.

"Say my name, Ice Queen." he panted.

"Mr. Baker," she moaned in a flat, sarcastic register. "Oh, Mr. Baker, please fuck me like a commoner." Leah played along, rolling her eyes even as she gave him what he wanted.

The joke got him, and he barked a laugh, actually slapping her ass hard enough to sting.

"Shit you are gonna make me cum hell ahggh!" he huffed between thrusts.