I was gasping his name, not even words, just the syllable, and he drank it down, his fingers digging into my ass to hold me exactly where he wanted.
The friction reminded me I wasn’t a ghost or a memory but alive, here, now.
He pulled out abruptly, the sudden emptiness making me whimper, and rolled me onto my stomach, a move so sudden it knocked the air out of me.
He gathered my hair in his fist, yanking it back as he arched my spine, crawling up behind me until his chest pressed hot against my back, his cock sliding between my thighs.
His mouth hovered at my ear, his breath ragged, his words sandpaper against my skin.
“Look at you,” he said, low and awed, like I was something holy and forbidden. “I always knew you’d ruin me.”
He pushed back in with no warning, filling me so deep I thought I’d break.
I cried out, my cheek grinding against the rough polyester of the sheets as I felt myself dissolving, but the ache was perfect. A lightning bolt that radiated from my core to every nerve in my body.
I felt him grinding against my ass, the angle so deep I could barely breathe.
His hand curled around my throat, just enough to remind me who I was with, who I’d chosen. The pressure was a warning: not to be scared, but to surrender.
I bucked against him, greedy for the friction, greedy for everything, wanting to be devoured and spit out new.
He fucked me from behind, slow at first, letting me feel every inch, every stretch, every collision of his hips against my ass.
Each thrust drove me up the bed, and I clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.
I felt exposed, raw, split open in a way that made me ache for more.
He was everywhere. His hands bruising my hips, his mouth on my neck, his cock deep enough to make me see stars.
The sound in the room was obscene, wet and frantic, the slap of skin on skin overlaid by my moans and his low, broken growls.
He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, just pounded into me with a steady, punishing rhythm. Every time I thought I’d reached my limit, he shifted, angled, and found a way to enhance the pleasure.
I could hear myself begging, “Please, please, don’t stop,” and it made him growl, a feral sound, his teeth scraping over my ear.
He let go of my throat only to grab my wrist, pinning it behind my back, arching me up until the only thing holding me together was his body wrapped around mine.
He knew exactly how to hurt, but he also knew how to bring pleasure.
All his restraint was gone. He was raw and wild, teeth bared, sweat dripping down to pool in the small of my back.
I felt his fingers slip between my legs, finding my clit and circling it with perfect, ruthless precision. It sent a jolt up my spine, shooting straight to the place inside me that had always ached for him.
He drew it out, teasing and punishing, until I shattered, coming so hard I sob-screamed into the pillow, my body bucking against his hand, against the full, relentless drive of him inside me.
The world dissolved. I didn’t know where he ended, and I began. All of me was sensation, strung out along a wire of pleasure so taut it seemed impossible it wouldn’t snap.
He pulled me back, flipping me onto my back with a force that left my ears ringing. He wanted to see my face when he came undone.
His palm landed hard on the mattress next to my head, the other pinning my thigh open as he thrust back into me with a hunger that bordered on violence.
Sweat dripped from his brow onto my cheek, and the look in his eyes was wild, unmasked, and desperate, like a man clawing his way out of a burning building.
I met him thrust for thrust, arching into every movement, wanting to feel every ounce of him, wanting him to know that he could never scare me away again.
He grunted, low, burying his face in my neck as if he could crawl inside my skin. I clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, and he hissed at the sting, then fucked me even harder, punishing and sweet.
I watched his face, watched the way he tried to hold himself together, and I wanted to watch him break.
