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He releases my breasts, his hands sliding down my sides to hook under my thighs.

In one smooth motion, he lifts me, pinning me to the wall with the weight of his body.

I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, grinding my aching center against the rigid length of him.

We both groan at the contact, the layers of fabric between us an infuriating barrier.

He rocks into me, his hips setting a bruising pace, and I meet him thrust for thrust.

It’s not enough, the friction too rough, too dry, but I’m too far gone to care.

“More,” I pant, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Nico, please…”

He growls, a sound of pure male satisfaction, and reaches between us to yank my pants and underwear down my legs.

The cool air against my overheated skin makes me gasp, but it’s quickly replaced by the scorching heat of his touch.

His fingers find me slick and swollen, already so close to the edge just from this.

He strokes me with a kind of reverence, his touch light and teasing, a stark contrast to the rough desperation of moments before.

“So wet,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against my throat. “So perfect. Is this all for me, Katerina? Are you this ready, this desperate, just for me?”

“Yes,” I sob, grinding down onto his hand. “Only for you. Please, Nico, I need…”

I break off with a choked cry as he thrusts two fingers deep inside me, his thumb pressing hard against my clit.

He sets a punishing rhythm, pumping into me hard and fast, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.

I’m climbing higher and higher, my body wound tight as a bowstring.

I’m right on the edge, teetering on that knife’s edge of pleasure and pain, when he suddenly withdraws his fingers.

I let out a wordless sound of protest, my hips chasing his touch, but then he’s there, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

He pauses for a moment, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot and harsh against my lips.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough with strain. “I want to see your eyes when I take you, when I make you mine.”

I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze.

The intensity I see there steals my breath, the raw hunger, the aching need.

It’s a mirror of everything I’m feeling, everything I’m desperate for.

“Yours,” I whisper. “Always yours.”

And then he’s surging forward, sheathing himself inside me in one hard, deep stroke.

I cry out at the sudden fullness, my nails scoring down his back, my heels digging into his ass to urge him deeper.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into me with a force that borders on violence.

The wall scrapes against my back with every thrust, the pain a delicious counterpoint to the searing pleasure.

I’m lost in him, in the feeling of him moving inside me, claiming me, branding me as his own.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he pants, his face buried in the crook of my neck. “So fucking tight, so perfect. I could stay buried inside you forever.”