Page 31 of Echo’s Secret

"Don't care," I pant.

"I do." He pulls out completely and I whimper at the sudden emptiness. "Need you bent over. Need to fuck you properly."

Before I can process, he's lifting me off the desk and spinning me around. My feet hit the floor. His hand presses between my shoulder blades, bending me forward until my chest is flat against the cool surface.

"Spread your legs," he orders. "Wider."

I obey, shifting my feet apart. The position has me completely exposed, ass up, bent over and waiting.

"Fuck," Wesley mutters behind me. "Look at you. Perfect."

I feel him line up. Feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance from this new angle. Then he's slamming inside and I'm screaming into the desk.

"Oh God! Wesley… Fuck—"

This position is deeper. So much deeper. Every thrust feels like it's hitting my stomach. Like he's trying to rearrange my internal organs.

And I fucking love it.

Wesley grips my hips and starts fucking me in earnest. Long, powerful strokes that make my whole body slide across the desk surface. The edge digs into my hip bones but I don't care. Nothing matters except the feeling of him inside me.

"Take it," he grunts. "Take all of it."

"Yes, more! Harder!"

He gives me what I ask for. Fucks me so hard the desk scrapes loudly across the floor with each thrust. So hard I have to brace my hands on the far edge to keep from being pushed completely over it.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room. Mixed with my moans, his grunts and the desk still creaking. Everyone downstairs can definitely hear us. I should care. Should be embarrassed.

I'm not.

Let them hear. Let them know exactly what's happening up here. Let them know I'm his.

"So good," Wesley groans. "Fucking perfect. Your pussy feels like heaven."

I try to respond but can't form words. My brain has completely short-circuited. Everything is too much: his cock stretching me, his hands on my hips, the desk hard beneath me, pleasure building impossibly fast.

Wesley leans over me, covering my back with his chest. One hand slides up to wrap around my throat, just holding it.

"Mine," he says roughly in my ear. "You're mine now. Say it."

"Yours," I manage. "All yours."

"That's right."

He straightens back up and changes his grip. One hand stays on my hip. The other grabs a handful of my hair at the base of my skull. Not pulling, just controlling.

I'm completely at his mercy. Completely under his control.

And I've never felt safer.

"Harder," I beg. "Please, Wesley, harder."

"Greedy." But he complies.

He fucks me harder. Faster. Each thrust punishing and perfect. My legs start shaking. The pressure building low in my belly spreads through my whole body. I'm getting close. So fucking close.

"Not yet," Wesley says, reading my body like a book. "Hold it."