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“Damn it, Em. I’ll still hurt you after this.”
A tear slides down my cheek as I clench my eyes shut and will my heart to stop pounding.
“I know.”
“Tell me to stop.”
He’s begging, and still I can’t give him what he wants.
“Please,” I say instead. “Keep going.”
A heavy breath pours over his lips soaked in frustration, dripping with regret, drowning in the last bit of control he’d regained before he snaps his leash again.
His fingers sink inside me, and I cry out at the sudden intrusion, my body trembling in place from both need and exertion.
When I try to move, his grip tightens on my hip to hold me in place, his forehead against my cheek as he watches his hand thrust between my legs.
Curious.
Controlling.
So damn arrogant that he knows I’ll stay in place despite the burning in my muscles, despite the way my arms and legs shake from holding this position.
It doesn’t escape my notice that Ezra’s still fully dressed while I’m naked. That he prefers me exposed while he takes what he’s after.
With each hard thrust of his fingers, my body sparks and snaps like a live electrical wire, heat rushing over my skin until I’m scorched beneath it.
His thumb finds my clit and rubs with cruel, vicious circles as my pleasure expands, and I lose the ability to think, to breathe, to do anything more than accept the waves of sensual violence rolling through me.
“Yeah, Em, just like that. Fuck, you’re perfect.”
His breath is hard against my ear, every hard inhale and shuddering exhale, and still he restrains himself, the tension of his body so painfully taut as he continues pushing me to a point where I lose control entirely.
My body explodes in pleasure and wet heat, a churning, pulsing, consuming chaos that causes my muscles to tighten and spasm, my cunt to grip down on his fingers, undulating and rippling over the rough slide of his thick invasion.
“Nice,” he whispers, his voice reverent and fascinated, the rough approval in his tone a sharp edge lining that one word.
He’s about to lose himself to me, to this, to us.
Ezra is Violence, in life, in mind...in bed. And once this man loses control, he’s a wildfire that consumes without concern for what damage is caused.
I learned that the hard way.
Ten long years ago.
Head dipping low, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the hand on my waist moving until it’s just fingertips on my lower back, scraping and digging into the tight muscle as he pulls my body tighter against his mouth and marks me with a devil’s painful, biting kiss.
I can’t stop.
I won’t stop.
Wave after wave after wave.
I’m exploding. Imploding. Expanding and contracting. My world a millions stars all swirling and colliding until his name is rolling off my lips on a breathless prayer, on a sinful song, on a begging plea that he doesn’t let go.
Coming down is a crash landing, his arm wrapping around me as my muscles give out, and I collapse into a melted puddle of love and lust and need.
So strong, this man.
