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“I like to hear you beg for my cock, love. Been dreaming about it for a while now, actually.” I pushed his hand away and got on top of him, straddling his length while looking him in the eye. He was right there, so close. I observed him for a moment, hovering just over his cock to tease him just like he teased me. The excitement in his gaze was his tell. He wanted this just as much as I did.
“Careful, love. Once we go there, we can’t go back.”
“What do you mean?”
He bent upward, closing the distance between our faces as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Once I’ve been inside of you, you’re mine. No one else’s.”
I hovered over him for another moment, the implication of his words like ice to my system. Was that what I truly wanted? To give up Atticus and potentially Leo for August?
He gleamed, as if he had me right where he wanted me. I could take him, if I wanted. If I wanted to sell my soul to him for the rest of my life and give up on the others.
But I wasn’t sure.
I was so fucking close, but I couldn’t do it. Not like this.
I rolled off of him, and his reaction was instant.
“No!” He pinned me down, his hand back to my throat as he positioned his hard length right at my entrance. “You are mine, Christine.” He thrust inside of me, and I swear I fucking saw stars. He was so thick, so goddamn filling. He squeezed at my throat just enough to make me gasp for air as he started fucking me raw and relentlessly. “God, you feel so good. So tight. So perfectly made for me. Only me.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that I didn’t choose just him, though. I’d stopped this but he wouldn’t let me go. He demanded my body. “No,” I croaked when he released my throat. He pinched my nipple and pistoned again and again, rocking my body so hard that the bed shook.
The flames of passion burned between both of us as he looked me in the eye. “You might not choose me, but I choose you. You will be mine, Christine. I will be—” His voice was cut off as he let out a moan. “I”—thrust—“will”—thrust—“be”—thrust—“good enough.”
He rocked my body hard. The wet pounding sounds filled the room, and I lifted my leg up to feel him deeper.
An orgasm crashed through me. It was powerful, rolling on and on and on forever, it seemed.
August fucked me through every pulse of bliss, riding it out as hard as he could while I screamed his name and practically levitated off the fucking mattress. I loved the feeling of his hard body on top of mine, the wild thrusts of his body, the ache in my core, the relief of release.
He kept fucking me.
And fucking me.
I knew I’d be sore tomorrow, my body bruised, my pussy spent.
Another orgasm hit me full force, my entire body tensing up, then releasing.
I’d expected him to stop. To find his own release and collapse on top of me. But he kept panting. Kept fucking. Kept burning himself onto my soul with every move.
He moved his thumb to my clit and circled it, but I was too sensitive. “August, I can’t.”
“I’m not stopping until you know the only pleasure you’ll ever get is from my hands…” He paused to thrust three more times. “From my tongue.” He leaned down to kiss me, plunging his teeth into my bottom lip, drawing blood. “And from splitting you with my cock.”
He pounded my pussy until I screamed helplessly, another fucking orgasm making my stomach clench.
And finally, he came hard, his spine rigid as he spurted hot ropes of cum over and over again, whispering filthy words while he filled me up.
“Yes, Christine. This pussy is mine.”
And at that moment, I wanted to agree with him.
But when we both rolled onto the mattress, with his cum seeping out of me and drenching the sheets and with the sounds of our erratic hearts the only thing we could hear, I felt numb.
My body wasn’t the problem. He could claim that all he wanted.
No, the problem was my heart. The problem was my fucking soul.
Chapter Eighteen
