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He has me trained well, so well I haven’t even tried to touch him until now. The sudden sharp slice of pleasure that cuts through me though has me reaching down, pushing at his head.

Matthew growls, his grip tightening around my thighs. His tongue drags across my clit again and I push harder at his head.

“Why do you still fight me, Lily?” he asks, and begins to attack my clit in earnest.

Mouth pulling, tongue pressing… lapping… circling.

Why do I still fight him? Because the things he makes me feel, the pleasure he forces on me is so strong it’s downright unnatural.

Deep down, I know he shouldn’t have this power over me. He shouldn’t be able to ignite my body with just a look or touch…

Yet he does.

He continues to push me and push me, just like he does in every facet of my life. My fight, my hands shoving at him, only making him that much more determined to conquer me.

To win.

His tongue drags me up and up, until my hips are lifting off the bed. Until I’m pressing myself into his face, on the verge of giving in.

“You know you can’t win,” he growls, and then he sucks hard on my clit.

Fingers tightening in his hair, the sparks flashing behind my eyes are the only warning I get before the pressure inside me explodes. Sweeping me away in wet waves of bliss.

Vaguely, I’m aware of my little bundle of nerves vibrating as Matthew murmurs and groans sweet, dirty words between licks. Expressing his pleasure over my submission.

When he finally pulls away, I collapse against the bed, boneless and spent.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he smirks with self-satisfaction as he rises above me and begins to unbutton his shirt. “We’re not finished yet.”

Panting, I watch each button come undone through the veil of my lashes, drinking in every inch of his bare skin.

He truly is a model of perfection. While some men look softer, more vulnerable without their clothing, when Matthew undresses it’s like he’s shedding a disguise. A disguise meant to fool others into believing he’s a civilized man.

Belt undone, he shoves his pants to the floor and my body tenses with expectation. As he climbs over me, all hard muscles and definition, my chest tightens. Only I get to see this, who he truly is.

A primal force that’s more beast than man.

So much heat radiates off him as he hovers above me, I find myself arching toward him. Overcome with the need to feel his flesh against my flesh.

Head dipping down, his mouth claims my mouth as his hands grab the bodice of my nightgown. One hard pull is all it takes to split the delicate fabric from breast to hem.

Coming down on top of me, he presses me into the bed.

Settling himself between my thighs, his erection brushes against my over-sensitive clit. My hips jerk and I break the kiss with a gasp.

He grins down at me, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement.

Then he does it again.

Just as I open my mouth to reprimand him, he grabs his cock and guides it to my entrance.

The protest dying on my lips, I glance down to see where we meet. His flushed, velvety flesh pushing against my glistening lips.

Then all my breath leaves me in a rush as he suddenly drives forward. Impaling me on his thick shaft.

“Fuck, Lily,” he groans, grinding himself as deep as he can. “You’re so fucking tight and perfect.”

Before I can lock myself around him, he pulls back and drives into me again.

Grabbing me by the thigh, he lifts my leg.

Spreading me wide open for him.

“When I die,” he grunts, pumping himself hard in and out of me. “I want to die inside your perfect little pussy… just like this.”

God, that’s a horrible fucking thought.

Still, I’m sick enough to be turned on by it.

As if he can sense his own death hanging over his head, his hips begin to pound me mercilessly into the bed. Fingers tightening around my thigh, he spreads me until I feel I might split open. I’m so vulnerable, so spread out, so exposed, I can do nothing but take it, accept it.

Fucking relish it.

Every crack of his skin against my skin, every slap against my clit, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of madness.

Until I’m toppling over it, screaming my love for him.

But he’s not done yet. He continues to fuck me hard through my orgasm. Pushing me through another and another. Pushing himself harder, as if he’s trying to purge himself of something.

Showing no mercy, no remorse.

“When I die,” he declares. “I’m taking you with me. You’re mine, Lily. Mine. Forever. I own your mind, your body, and your soul.”

Grabbing me roughly by the hair, he tugs until I’m looking up at him. Drowning in his wild eyes through my throes.

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