“Stryker, please—” I’m begging now, shameless in my desperation.
“Please what? Tell me what you need.”
“I need to come. Please, I’m so close?—”
He pulls back, his fingers stilling, and I whimper at the loss. “Not yet. You come when I say you can come.”
The dominance in his voice sends a fresh rush of arousal through me, and I clench around his fingers.
“That’s my good girl. You like it when I control your pleasure, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I breathe, beyond caring how desperate I sound.
He rewards me by adding a third finger, stretching me wider, the slight burn making me gasp. “You’re going to take my cock so perfectly. But first, I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue.”
He dives back in with renewed hunger, his mouth working me with an intensity that steals my breath. His fingers pump faster now, hitting that sweet spot inside me over and over while his tongue does wicked things to my clit.
The orgasm builds like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me in sensation.
“Come for me, Allie. Let go.”
His permission is all I need. I shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me, my body convulsing around his fingers while he licks me through every aftershock.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs as I come down. “Absolutely fucking beautiful.”
“I need—” I can’t finish the sentence, can’t put into words what I need when my body is still trembling from the intensity of my release.
“Tell me. Tell me what you need, Allie.”
Chapter Eleven
Lyra
“You.” I’ll die if I don’t have him inside me. I need you to fuck me.
The raw word seem to snap something in him. His eyes go dark, predatory.
He moves up my body, his weight settling over me, and I feel the hard length of him against my thigh, thick and heavy and hot, pressing against my hip. He reaches for something on the nightstand—a condom. Always prepared. Always cautious.
The sound of the foil tearing seems unnaturally loud, and I watch as he sheathes himself with practiced efficiency. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him—long and thick, the head already glistening. When he settles back between my legs, the head of his cock brushes against me, and I whimper.
“Fuck, you’re still so wet,” he growls, sliding back and forth through my slickness. “So ready for me.”
“Keep looking at me,” he says, positioning himself at my entrance. “I want to watch you take me.”
I do, meeting his gaze as he pushes into me slowly. The stretch is exquisite torture—it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and never with someone like him. Someone who fills me so completely, stretching me wide, claiming every inch of me.
“Christ, you’re tight.” His voice is hoarse. “So fucking perfect.”
He pauses, giving me time to adjust, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. I can feel him throbbing inside me, hot and hard and barely restrained.
“You okay?”
“Yes.” The word comes out breathless. “More. I can take it. I want all of you.”
“Greedy girl.” His murmur is filled with appreciation.
He gives me what I ask for, sliding deeper until he’s seated fully inside me. I feel split open, possessed, completely owned by this man and his thickness. We stay like that for a moment, connected in the most intimate way possible, and something shifts between us. Something deeper than desire. More dangerous than want.
