"Nico—" The sassy comeback dies on my tongue. I am suddenly intensely vulnerable.
He looks up at me. His eyes are blazing with a possessive heat. "Mine."
He leans forward. His mouth presses directly against my wetness.
A loud, embarrassing moan rips out of my throat. My head falls back against the cold wall behind the desk.
He drags his tongue slowly, deliberately up the slick, swollen folds of my pussy. He tastes the arousal pouring out of me. He uses his thumbs to spread me open, ensuring he has total access.
His rough thumb locks onto my engorged clit. He circles the swollen flesh, applying a firm, torturous pressure that grinds directly into the nerves.
I thrash violently on the desk, my knuckles turning white as I grip the cold metal edges of the workstation. "God... Nico, yes."
He doesn’t stop. He maps my explicit physical reactions, learning exactly what speed makes me twist. He buries his face deeper between my thighs, wrapping his lips around my clit and sucking it hard into his mouth.
A visceral shockwave fires straight through my lower abdomen. My hips buck completely off the metal, totally out of my control. I try to clamp my legs shut, entirely overwhelmed by the raw intensity, but his massive hands lock onto my thighs, pinning my legs wide open to his mouth. The deep vibration of his throat rumbles right against my wet pussy lips.
He pushes two thick fingers straight inside my pussy, aggressively stretching my tight, drenched walls.
"You’re so fucking wet," he murmurs against my skin. "So sweet."
He thrusts his fingers in and out of my pussy, mimicking the rhythm of a brutal claiming. His thumb continues to relentlessly assault my clit. The combination is devastating.
I am a physical therapist. I understand the mechanics of the human body. I understand nerve clusters and muscle contractions. But nothing in my medical training prepared me for the sheer, overwhelming devastation of Nico Costa's mouth.
The climax hits me with the force of a freight train.
My body goes rigid. My walls clench violently around his moving fingers. A loud, continuous moan tears from my throat as wave after wave of blinding pleasure crashes through my system. I milk his fingers, my hips grinding down against his face, chasing every last drop of sensation.
He swallows my release. He takes every shuddering contraction like it is a precious offering.
As the final waves of the orgasm recede, leaving me panting and boneless on the metal desk, he stands up.
He towers over me, shoulders rising and falling. His shirt is bunched at my waist. My skin is flushed, sensitive, wrecked.
He reaches for the buckle of his pants.
My gaze drops. He undoes the belt with a sharp snap. He unzips his fly and pushes the fabric down his narrow hips.
His cock springs free, heavy and rigid against his stomach.
He’s massive. A veined length of iron-hard flesh, standing tall and demanding against his sculpted stomach. A single drop of clear precum glistens at the blunt tip. He is rigid with a need that has been building since I walked into his crosshairs.
He steps into the vee of my legs. He grips my hips, his long fingers digging into my soft flesh, pulling me all the way to the very edge of the desk.
He notches the fat head of his cock against my wet, aching entrance.
The heat radiating from him is absolute. His scent fills the room.
He pauses. He holds himself there, hovering right at the precipice. The muscles in his tattooed arms are coiled tight. He is giving me one final second to brace myself.
"You’re mine, Priya." His voice is a rough, jagged edge in the dark room. "From this second forward. My woman. I protect what belongs to me."
"Then claim me." My voice is a breathless command.
He drives his hips forward.
The thick, blunt head of his cock splits me open. He pushes inside, sliding through my slick folds. He is so thick. The stretch is exquisite pressure. I gasp loudly, my fingernails biting into the solid muscle of his uninjured bicep.
