Page 82 of The Tower

He slides one finger into me, then another, stroking that spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. My thighs fall open wider, giving him better access as my body responds to his skilled touch.

“Like this?” he asks, his fingers curling inside me, his thumb circling my clit with relentless pressure.

“Yes,” I gasp, my body clenching around his fingers.

“Anything else you want, Princess?”

He’s teasing me, but I’m too close to care. I want what he’s offering. The rush. The release. And I want it with him. “Your cock,” I say. “Please. Please, fuck me.”

His eyes darken with desire. “So greedy,” he murmurs. “Always wanting more.”

“Only from you,” I whisper, the truth of it striking deep.

He shifts down my body, his mouth trailing kisses across my stomach, over my hipbones, down to the insides of my thighs.

“I need to taste your cunt first,” he says, voice rough with hunger. “Need to know exactly how wet you are for me.”

The first stroke of his tongue against my clit has me crying out, my hands clenching in his hair, pulling him closer. He groans against me, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure building inside me. My thighs shake on either side of his head, my back arching off the bed as he devours me with the same intensity he brings to everything.

“Liam,” I gasp, my hips moving against his mouth. “Oh god, Liam …”

His fingers dig into my thighs, keeping me open to his assault. I’m trembling, tettering on the edge of something massive, something that feels different from the other times he’s brought me to this precipice.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice vibrating through my core. “Let me taste you, Sasha.”

The last of my restraint shatters, my body convulsing as pleasure crashes through me in waves. He doesn’t let up, his mouth working me through every tremor, every aftershock, until I’m whimpering from the intensity.

Only then does he raise his head, his eyes dark with need. “Now,” he says, rising to strip off his own clothes. “I’m going to fuck you exactly the way you begged me to.”

Naked, he’s magnificent—all lean muscle and controlled power. His cock juts proud and thick, and my pussy clenches at the sight. He covers me again, the weight of him both terrifying and comforting.

“I’ve been aching for this,” he says, positioning himself at my entrance. “I’ve been dreaming about burying myself in this tight cunt all day.”

He pushes forward, stretching me, filling me in a slow, inexorable slide that steals the breath from my lungs. My body yields to him, adjusting to his size, the initial burn giving way to pleasure.

When he’s fully inside me, he pauses, forehead pressed to mine, breath mingling with my own.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. “So perfect around my cock.” He meets my eyes. “So perfect.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Perfect.”

Then he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in a rhythm that quickly builds from controlled to desperate. Each stroke hits that perfect spot inside me, building the pleasure again. My breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts, my skin slick with sweat, every cell in my body focused on the point where we’re joined, on the rising journey that will send us tumbling over the precipice.

“Mine,” he growls, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat to his mouth. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasp, the word torn from me as he drives into me harder. “I’m yours, Liam.”

The admission feels different this time. Not just the words he demands during sex, but a truth I can’t escape.

He must sense the shift because his expression changes, softens even as his body continues its relentless claiming of mine. He kisses me then, deep and thorough, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock.

“I want to feel you come around me,” he says against my lips. “Want to feel you squeeze me tight while I fill you.”

His hand slides between us, finding my clit, and that’s all it takes to send me plummeting over the edge again. I cry out his name as pleasure crashes through me, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.

He follows a moment later, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time. I feel the heat of his release inside me, marking me as his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, we’re both still, joined and panting. Then something shifts in his expression—a shuttering, a retreat. He pulls away, separating our bodies with an abruptness that leaves me cold despite the flush of satisfied heat still warming my skin.