AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Or maybe...," he drawled, pacing around the bed with the predatory grace of a panther eyeing its prey, "you need to beg me. Beg me to fill you up, to make you feel every inch of what you've been craving."
A surge of heat raced through my veins, and I bit down hard on my bottom lip. The thought of begging him—to be so vulnerable, so fucking exposed—it gnawed at me. Yet, the raw desire to feel him, to be claimed by him, was a tidal wave threatening to sweep away all semblance of resistance.
"Please, Nash," I began, the words tasting like acid on my tongue, but my body betrayed the sarcasm with a shiver of anticipation. "I'm dying here, you ass. Isn't this what you want? Me, at your mercy, ready to take whatever you give?"
"Perhaps," he mused, circling closer until I felt the heat emanating from his body. "But the question is, do you want it enough? Enough to let go of that rebellion and fully submit to me?"
"Damn you," I muttered, but the fight was fading, replaced by a thrumming pulse of need that echoed his every word. "Yes, I want it. I want you, you arrogant?—"
"Shh," he cut me off, a single finger pressed against my lips. "Prove it, Celeste. Show me just how much you want it."
The challenge in his gaze sparked something wild within me. It ignited the fuse of my submission, my body and soul teetering on the brink of yielding to the intoxicating power he wielded over me. And in that reckless moment, I knew I would give anything, everything, just to have him claim me as his.
"Fuck, Nash, please," I groaned, the words clawing their way out of my throat. My body was a live wire, every nerve ending aflame with a hunger only he could satiate. "I need it, damn you. I need you."
His laugh was dark, rich, and infuriatingly smug. "As you wish, my rebellious artist." The arrogance laced in his voice fanned the flames of my desire even as I wanted to wipe that self-assured smirk off his face.
With hands that commanded as much as they caressed, Nash positioned me on all fours at the edge of the bed—a grand monstrosity that seemed to absorb my willpower with its opulent sheets. The shadow of him loomed over me, a predator staking his claim.
"Remember, you asked for this," he whispered against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
"God, don't remind me," I muttered, but any semblance of defiance was crushed under the weight of my own traitorous lust.
The moment I felt his cock at the entrance of my pussy, my breath hitched, anticipation coiling tight in my belly. And then, with a thrust that stole the air from my lungs, he was inside me, filling me completely, stretching the thin boundaries of my composure.
"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his pace relentless, each stroke driving me further into a frenzy. His cock slammed into me in painful waves.
"Harder," I demanded, or maybe pleaded—it was getting harder to tell. Each movement of his was precise, calculated to draw out the most intense sensations. My fingers clutched at the sheets, grasping for something solid in the storm of pleasure that threatened to sweep me away.
"Fuck, yes. Just like that," I gasped, my voice breaking on a moan as he obliged, his rhythm unyielding. "You're such an asshole, making me beg…"
"Ah, but you do it so beautifully," Nash taunted, his breath hot on my neck as he leaned over my back, his movements synchronizing with the desperate tilt of my hips.
I was close, teetering on the precipice of something monumental, something that would obliterate every thought except the raw, primal need for release. "Nash—I'm gonna?—"
"Come for me, Celeste," he ordered, and it was that command, that deep timbre of absolute authority, which sent me spiraling over the edge.
My climax hit me like a freight train, barreling through my senses, leaving nothing but white-hot ecstasy in its wake. Dimly, I heard myself scream his name, a ragged sound torn from the depths of my being. Then darkness crashed over me, a merciful oblivion that swallowed me whole.
And just like that, I was gone.
Consciousness crept back in like a damn thief, the awareness of weight and warmth inside me pulling me out of oblivion. My body's visceral response preceded any rational thought—the sensation of fullness, Nash's unyielding grip on my hip, his hips still moving in that maddening rhythm. I gasped, my eyes fluttering open to the dim light of the suite, filtering through heavy curtains.
"Jesus, Nash," I croaked, the realization hitting me. He'd made me cum so hard I blacked out, and had been fucking me while I was out cold.
His chuckle rumbled through his chest, the vibrations spreading through me like wildfire. "You were so goddamn wet, Celeste. Even in your sleep, your body beckoned me to continue." His voice was thick with lust, his breath warm against the nape of my neck.
Part of me wanted to rage, to claw at him for taking advantage—yet another betrayal to add to my collection. But there was this other part, this dark, twisted part that reveled in the fact that I'd knocked out from sheer pleasure and he was so consumed by desire he hadn’t stopped.
"Fuck you," I muttered, though it came out more like an invitation than an insult. There was something about the rawness in his confession, the primal honesty that resonated somewhere deep within me.
"Already doing that, love," he joked, his pace relentless as ever. Each thrust sent a jolt of pain laced with pleasure through me, reigniting the embers of my arousal with ruthless efficiency.
"Asshole," I breathed out, my hands fisting the sheets, trying to anchor myself against the tide of sensation. It was all too much—too intense, too reckless—and yet, wasn't this what I craved? The brutal honesty of our bodies, the way he could read my darkest desires like they were scrawled across my skin?
"Say it again," Nash demanded, his hand sliding around to press against my clit, his movements calculated to drive me wild.
"Asshole," I repeated, louder this time, the word breaking on a moan as he circled the sensitive flesh with devilish precision.
