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“Riven,” I whisper, arching into his touch, hips lifting toward his. “Please.”
“Begging for ruin, little witch?”
He glides the tip of his cock through the slick gathering between my thighs.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re dripping, and I’ve barely touched you.”
“Please.”
“Patience, sweetheart.”
He teases my entrance, the head of his cock slipping just inside before retreating. Then, inch by devastating inch, he begins to fill me, stretching me tight around him.
Halfway in, he halts.
I whimper, body roaring for more, for all of him. I buck up into him, desperate. “More. Please.”
“You’re so fucking tight,” he rasps. “I have to go slow.”
“I’ve taken all of you before.” I dig my nails into his back. “I’ll do it again.”
“That was after my mouth and fingers had coaxed you open.” Heat blazes in his eyes as his hips flex, barely moving. “If I rush this, I’ll hurt you.”
“You already know how I feel about pain, Riven. Hurt me. Ruin me. Just—”
I cry out as he plunges to the hilt, and I wrap my arms around him, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts. He’s relentless, every motion thick with the urgency of desire. My release builds fast. My vision blurs, then sharpens, just to blur again as he bites my collarbone.
“Riven, I need—”
“I know what you need.”
He withdraws from me entirely, slick cock glistening in the candlelight. “Turn over.”
The loss of him is agony. I’m a husk, empty and aching.
But I roll onto my stomach without hesitation.
His hand fists my hair, tugging my head back and baring my throat, as the other traces the bargain’s mark inked along my spine, drifting lower and lower until he’s cupping my rear. I lift my hips for him, exhaling a sharp, ragged breath the moment he slams into me in a single thrust, hitting the deepest spot in me.
Riven lets out a low, guttural grunt. His hand lands hard against my ass—sharp, stinging, perfect. My eyelids flutter shut as pain and pleasure radiate from where he hit me.
Again. Another slap.
I don’t recognize the sound he tears from me. It’s sinful. Wrecked.
Loud enough for the entire kingdom—maybe even Dagny herself—to hear.
He reaches around me, fingers finding my swollen center.
His touch is merciless.
I break apart around him. I’m a shaking, soaken mess as his grip loosens on my hair, and I collapse onto the pillow.
His pace never slows.
He grips my hips, fingers bruising.
He ruts, wild and frantic. Just two creatures lost in a silken forest, his roar echoing off the marble walls as he comes undone.
