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I swallow hard as his eyes burn into me. “I don’t think I want to leave,” I confess. “I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I never want it to stop.”
The way he looks at me. The way he touches me. The way he makes me feel. I never want to lose that.
“Sometimes we don’t have to understand something to like it,” he replies, tugging on my cuffed hand to make sure it’s secure.
He stands back to his full height and undoes his pants. After he pushes them down, he climbs back over me and settles between my legs. His cock pushes against my pussy. Reaching down with my free hand, I grip it and move him where I want him. I lay his length between my lips, then move my hips as much as I can. The fabric of my panties between us creates the perfect friction on my clit. I close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheeks to stop from screaming.
This is all so much. The liquor, the words, the touching. I’m already so damn high and he’s barely touched me.
“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you,” he growls, reaching down and pushing my panties to the side.
When the head of his cock pushes into me, I cry out.
His hand moves to my neck. “My name. Say it.”
I obey and moan his name as he pushes further inside of me. “Cyrus!”
One simple word—that’s all it takes to drive him forward. As his hold on my neck tightens and stars start to blur my vision, his thrusts get rougher. He goes deeper and deeper, reaching inside of me to evoke pleasure. His pelvis rubs my clit with every stroke, and I can’t take it anymore. I come.
“Good girl. Come all over this cock.”
His words do nothing but prolong my delicious torture. I grab his hip with my free hand and let my nails dig into his skin, while the other tugs at its restraint. Pain radiates around my wrist from the pressure, but it only makes everything ten times better.
I warp my legs around him, still clawing at his side, just to keep him inside of me. I never want this to end, but he’s stronger. He’s always been stronger. Still pumping into me, he snags the key to the cuffs he abandoned on the nightstand and unlocks the one attached to the bed frame.
As soon as my arm is free, he moves to his knees and slides an arm behind me. He grabs me hard, his fingers digging into me, marking me, and brings me to his chest. He stands and carries me back to the door where the mirror hangs before pulling out of me.
He whips my body around so I’m facing the mirror and bends me at the waist. “Look at yourself while I fuck you. I want you to see what I see. I want you to remember the face you make when I come inside of you.”
He slides back into me, his cock filling me up more than before, and I can’t help but cry out as I stare at myself. “Fuck!”
“That’s it, Spitfire. Let go,” he says, grabbing my hips.
His tempo increases, and I’m not sure how much more I can take. My knees shake, my lungs are barely functioning, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, chasing his own release.
“Look at me!” he booms. “Look at who you fucking belong to.”
My core tightens all over again, sending me over another edge. It’s the things of nightmares and dreams combined. Heaven and hell. So much pleasure, but so much pain. We’re two broken humans just trying to figure out life. Two people brought together by trauma who deal with it through sex. Whether he knows it or not, I’m his now. He’s claimed more than my body.
Next thing I know, I feel him pulse inside of me, but his thrusts never stop. With each one, his cum spills out and runs down my legs.
Yeah… I think to myself. I’m his.
