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Goddammit.
She cried out as I mounted her.
She moaned as I speared all the way.
Her pussy rippled around my cock.
I lost all reason.
The tip of me hit the top of her, our heartbeats snapped into sync, and…
it
was
over.
I didn’t try to hold myself back.
I didn’t try to last.
I fisted the reins, cut all my restraints, and rode her like a motherfucking bastard.
Hard, fast, unforgiving.
Thrusting, taking, rutting.
Grunts echoed from my chest.
Fireworks gathered in my belly.
I raced toward the finish line with no thought for her pleasure.
This wasn’t sex.
This wasn’t lust.
This was survival.
My climax percolated in my lower belly, siphoned up my cock, and threatened to spill. The sharpness of desire didn’t just burn me alive; it cindered everything I was into ash.
My chin fell forward.
Heat gathered in my shaft.
Ily moaned around her gag but didn’t stop biting down.
My pace increased until my hips pistoned like a demented creature, driving every inch inside a girl who didn’t want me.
I’d thought I wanted that. Thought I’d craved that. Thought I’d never be able to get off without the intoxicating ownership of utter ruling.
But with Ily bound and subservient, taking my cock without a single complaint, I didn’t know what I fucking wanted anymore.
Pain, yes.
Authority, definitely.
But not this.
