“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I like—” Her voice cracks as I circle her clit. “I like you taking control.”
“Good.” I add pressure, rhythm, and she’s gasping, thighs trembling. “You’re going to come like this first. Just from my hand.”
“I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” I lean over her again, free hand splayed across her stomach, holding her steady. “Let go, Evie. I’ve got you.”
I kneel behind her, trace her slit with my tongue, my fingers still moving between her folds, spreading her legs so I can do more, access more, taste more.
I tease her with rapid movements, then slow ones, then with pressure. When her thigh muscles tighten, she flattens her back, pressing into me, I know she’s close, and I round her, and apply my mouth, sucking.
She comes with a choked cry, clenching around my fingers, body shaking.
I don’t stop. I keep the pressure steady, drawing it out until she’s gasping, barely holding herself up.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her lush ass. “Now get on the bed.”
She crawls forward, collapsing onto her stomach, and I follow her.
“Roll over,” I say.
She does, eyes glassy, chest heaving.
I grab a condom from the nightstand, tear it open, roll it on. Then I settle between her thighs, braced above her.
“Look at me,” I say.
Her eyes open, finding mine, hazy and unfocused for a beat before they sharpen.
“This is mine,” I say, pressing forward slowly, gaze locked on my sheathed cock, sliding it through her folds, teasing her with the tip. “You are mine.”
“Yes.”
I sink into her fully, and we both groan.
“God, you feel—” I don’t finish. Can’t.
I start to move. Not slow. Not gentle.
Hard. Fast. Taking what I need.
She feels good. Too good.
I set a brutal pace. One hand gripping her hip, the other sliding up her spine, fisting in her hair.
Not to hurt. Just to hold. To claim.
I slap the side of her ass. Once. A pop.
Those brown eyes look back at me, surprise—maybe a little defiant.
I lean forward, wanting her lips.
The angle’s not right, so I pull out and rearrange her, back on the bed, and I take those lips.