“Yes,” I whisper, shifting and feeling him move inside me.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, and slowly slides back in.
“Ah,” I gasp, feeling him bury himself halfway. He stops, watching me as if waiting for permission. “Please,” I whine, pulling him closer. “All of it, please.”
“All of it?” His voice darkens. “Such a brave girl.” He says and thrusts again.
The sound I make is unrecognizable. I can’t get enough. “Again,” I plead, the initial pain gone, replaced by a delicious fullness.
“So bossy,”
“Dominic,” I pant. “Please.”
He slides out and buries himself inside me again, harder now that he knows I’m not breaking. “You like that?” His voice is dark heat and cruel sweetness. “Like being split open on my cock?”
I can only moan and hold on, adjusting to his size.
“Thought you could play with me and run away?” he hisses, thrusting deeper and harder. My hands fly to the sheets, gripping for dear life; the sound that rips out of me is high and desperate.
“No running now.”
His hand moves down between us, thumb circling my clit. Another thrust. Another cry.
“Look at you,” he rasps. “wrapped around my dick like you were made for it.”
His lips are at my ear, cock buried deep. He thrusts while circling my clit, and I feel the climb start. “Maybe I’ll keep you like this all the time,” he whispers between thrusts “In my bed with your legs spread. All mine.”
He drags his lips down my throat, biting softly, marking me.
He ducks his head and mouths my breast, teeth grazing the peak until my thighs clench and my fingers dig into his arms.
“Dom,” I sob.
His tongue flicks my nipple before he closes his mouth around it and sucks, his cock pounds in and out, his thumb circling my clit.
“Every time you made me jealous,” he hisses against my skin, “this is what I wanted.”
I arch into his mouth, nails scraping his shoulder blades. I’m not sure whether to scream, beg, or weep.
He moves to the other breast, biting down softly, and I cry out. My legs twitch, thighs pressing like I can stop the buildup, but it’s useless. I’m a breathless, trembling mess.
He knows exactly where to touch, how to tease and circle until my world blurs. My body bucks under him, needing more. I’m so close it hurts.
He leans down, capturing my parted lips in a bruising kiss.
“You can hate me,” he grins, “but I’m still going to feel this tight little cunt come all over my cock.”
And I do.
My body shatters. My back arches. My mouth opens on a sob I can’t stop. I tremble, undone, lost in a wave of heat and pleasure that crashes through me like a hurricane.
“Fuck,” he snarls, watching me unravel.
He pulls out and strokes himself over me while I gasp and twitch through the aftershocks. His jaw locks, eyes dark and wild, and with a sharp groan he comes—hot, thick across my stomach, across my ribs, and down toward my navel.
The filthy, perfect mess of it is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. He groans low, hips jerking through it, hand still working himself as his cum paints my skin.
And when he finally stills, breathing hard, he stares down at me. I’m completely ruined, wrecked, and—his.
