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My moan is broken and barely audible.
“I play you back.” He slams into me in one vicious go.
My thighs shake and my walls tighten at the intrusion. My back arches off the bed and everything becomes so full of Asher, his thickness, his sandalwood scent mixed with citrus, his force and even his damn games.
Being bound to the bedpost only heightens the sensation of being completely at his mercy—or the lack thereof.
“How many fucking times have I told you not to test me?” His thrusts are sharp and violent, barely giving me space to breathe, let alone think.
He’s punishing me and I’m enjoying every stroke of pain, every brutal touch and savage connection.
I love it when he lets go of his cool façade and shows me his true unhinged self.
Because I know he’s only like this with me.
“I’m not that high school kid anymore.” Thrust. “If I see you flirting with anyone, I won’t only beat them.” Thrust. “I’ll fuck you in front of them.” Thrust. “And make them hear you scream my fucking name.”
A fierce wave grips hold of me.
It could be because of the relentless way he pounds into me, his crude words, his arousing promises.
Or all the above.
“Ash…oh, Ash—” I’m cut off when his fingers wrap around my throat.
It’s the catalyst I didn’t know I needed until it collides against me and I fall.
I just fall.
It’s hard, fast, and with no landing in sight, but it’s not painful. No, it’s liberating. It’s like having your soul float in the air.
When Asher releases my neck, it’s like he forces my pleasure to a screeching halt. I can’t believe I became so used to his sick ways, even my ecstasy depends on it.
A thousand shivers dance over my skin as my limbs quiver from the release. Asher’s pace slows down a little, but he doesn’t come. Hell, he doesn’t look like he’s close to coming any time soon.
I love that about him. It’s like he can’t physically release himself until he’s tormented me long enough, pounded inside me hard enough, and owned me whole.
He places the plug between us as he thrusts inside me slow and measured then long and unhurried, the pace so similar to—
No.
I won’t go there.
If I do, I’ll start thinking Asher has those types of deep feelings for me, and when I realize he doesn’t, it’ll only ruin me.
He traces the plug over my soaked folds. The skin is so sensitive and swollen, the merest friction curls my toes. My nails dig into my palms until I nearly draw blood. The knot at my wrist isn’t too tight, but even that rub is about to throw me over the edge.
“You’re wet.” He runs the object up and down to where his cock is going in and out of me. “Are you wet for me, prom queen?”
I nod once, my back bucking off of the bed. The deep angles of his thrusts are turning me delirious and mindless.
“And you’ll only ever be wet for me.” He grunts as he thrusts the plug in my ass. There’s no prepping, no warning.
I expect it to hurt like a mother, but it fits there fairly…well.
From what I’ve heard, it’s supposed to be painful, but it’s kind of pleasurable? I can feel the thin line between his cock and the plug, and my thighs shake harder at the sensation.
I soak in his pace, the deep thrusts and the glistening of perspiration on his chest. His muscles and tendons snap with the glory of his movements. His hands on my hips feel like anchors, big and hard.
