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I hear his chuckle and get a glimpse of him looking down at my butt as he plunges into me. Every time he fills me up, I want to squeal. He senses my stare and shifts his eyes, catching me peeking at him.
His palm goes over my butt and then around, sliding between my thighs. His fingertips touch my clit, barely–– he doesn’t even rub it––and I feel the echo in my abdomen.
I slightly arch before I freeze.
“You can’t deny it,” he murmurs, studying my reaction.
He rolls his hips over and over again.
“There’s nothing to deny,” I say in a strained voice, struggling to control myself.
It’s all in vain.
His dick slides into a pool of wetness, making me pulse at a frantic pace. He presses me with his body and rams into me.
He’s so deep inside me it hurts.
He stops moving for a second, tenderly strumming my clit, a wave of pleasure crashing through me.
My senses are open to him as I absorb him––the aroma of his cologne, the masculine scent of his arousal, the warmth of his arm locked around me, and the soft touch of his fingers on my clit.
He breathes faster now, all that warm air rolling into my hair and fanning over my neck, drowning me in pleasure.
“There’s no point in lying to me, Senna,” he murmurs, brushing my temple with his lips, whipping up a chemical storm in my body.
I push back a moan.
His thighs, chest, and groin press against me, and I relish them. Goosebumps flare on my skin as I register the soft wool of his pants, the cold touch of his belt, the starched fabric of his shirt, and the warmth and smoothness of his skin.
He almost slides his cock out, and I struggle to keep my hips from moving, my hands from grabbing him, and my crying moans from falling out.
He rocks his hips again, crashing into me.
I bite my lip again, still fighting.
He clutches my neck and grabs my mound as he delivers another hard thrust, and something breaks inside me.
There’s no pain.
Only pleasure.
Heat spikes through me, making me throb intensely.
My skin burns, and my fingers hurt while I desperately grip my dress.
I manage to stay silent. But there is nothing I can do about my sex.
Swollen and wet, my center squeezes his hard flesh, throbbing around him.
Pounding me, he lowers his mouth to my ear and moves his hand into my hair.
“That’s what I was talking about, baby. You can’t fight this, no matter how much you want to. You are mine, whether you hate or resent me, and I will drag you back no matter how difficult you make this to be.”
“Go to hell.”
His response comes swiftly in the form of a forceful thrust that pushes me into the wall and almost tears me apart inside.
His fist pulls my hair back, forcing me to arch my neck. His lips slide over my skin and then the sharp edge of his teeth.
