“I want you to come inside me. I’ve never wanted anything more…”
“Fuck me.” His voice is all gravel.
He reaches down and kisses me again, settling fully between my thighs.
I arch up, encouraging him, and he slides in to the hilt.
No more hesitation.
I make a noise that doesn’t sound like me, this sensual, heavy rush of air.
Braced above me, he curses, anchoring his cock deeper, pushing my walls apart, taking over.
I never used to think much of missionary sex, but it’s different with an older, volatile man built like a wall. He’s so big he presses me into the mattress.
So broad. So thick, so flipping stirring.
“Holden.”
He smiles wickedly and starts to move.
Long, patient thrusts, like he’s pacing himself.
Like he’s holding back so he doesn’t hurt me, knowing his own size and power.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, wrap my legs around him, and urge him on faster,faster.
Every thrust gets a little easier, a little smoother, and I just want him to bring it, hurt and all.
Just break me.
All my life, Holden was pure discipline. A force of nature.
Now, I want to strip that control away.
No more caution.
No more filter.
Just this, justlust.
Just us and this sweet, insatiable insanity.
He grabs my breasts, first one then the other, the darkness swelling so beautifully in his eyes like a night tide.
I’m fighting to breathe before he pulls out and flips me over.
Before I can protest, he’s in me again, mounting me from behind.
I press my ass against his magnificent cock, face down on the pillow.
His breath becomes a dull, steady roar like a river. He’s pounding me, threatening to turn this bed into splinters with forceful, quickening strokes.
I reach down, my fingers slick.
The sugar rush is so intense, I think I might pass out.
“So goddamned good,” he says above me. “So fucking tight. So obsessed.” His voice breaks on that last word and I lose it.
