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If she’d had the breath, she might have fought him on that, but she was too close to deny the truth. Especially when Matt’s fingers found her clit.
The clever man was too talented with her self-destruct button, and she came again, loudly. Liza had never screamed in bed. Not once in her whole damn life, but this orgasm was too big for silence.
Her body thrashed, the pleasure so intense it hurt. White lights flashed relentlessly behind her closed eyelids.
And Matt, damn him, never missed a beat, fucking her through this orgasm too, drawing it out so long, she feared she’d pass out. Once the tremors subsided, her legs—now jelly—fell to the mattress.
Matt still didn’t stop.
Until he did.
He pulled out, too quickly, and she shouted, ready to complain, her masochistic pussy clenching in an attempt to keep him inside. But the sound was cut short when he grasped her hips, twisting her.
“Roll over. I want to spank your ass while I fuck you from behind. And you’re going to come for me again. Another one just like those last two.”
“I’ll die,” she said, even as she struggled to push her knees beneath her, to shove her hips upward.
“You’ll do as I say,” he said, punctuating that comment with a hard slap to her ass. She gasped at the burn. Matt wasn’t holding anything back, wasn’t working her up to his rough touches.
He fucked like he lived—taking what he wanted without apology.
Part of her wanted to hate that, but she couldn’t. Not now when he spanked her ass again, then again, six hard slaps that set her on fire—inside and out.
While she was on her knees, her head was lowered to the mattress, held there by Matt’s palm cupping the back of her neck. She was beginning to feel like his rag doll. He put her where he wanted her, and for reasons she couldn’t explain to herself, she stayed there. Thrilled by his possession, his dominance, his control.
This time, when Matt pushed back inside her, there was no easing in. Just one hard shove, and—oh my God, HOW?—she was there. Again.
Her third orgasm took her unaware, and Matt cursed.
“You’re killing me. So fucking good!” His fingers clenched, gripping her hips so tightly, there was no way she wasn’t going to have bruises tomorrow.
Liza cried out, this climax striking fast and fading quicker than the last. Not that it mattered. It still packed one hell of a punch.
Again, Matt continued taking her as if nothing had happened. She’d never been fucked through an orgasm before, never thought she’d want such a thing.
Finally, his motions slowed, though she couldn’t understand why. He hadn’t come yet.
He reached down, taking a huge handful of her hair in his grip, using it to pull her upper body away from the mattress. Her scalp stung from the tight pull, but it also ramped her arousal even higher.
Liza’s sexual fantasies had always leaned toward rough sex, hard fucking, hair pulling, spanking. She’d dreamed of it all and even tried bits and pieces with past lovers, but Matt was the first to act without her asking, to tap into those darker desires without her having to draw him a road map.
He continued to pull her upward until her back was flush with his chest. He retained the grip of her hair with one hand, the other snaking around her to pinch her nipple.
She tried to back away from the pain. Her body was on sensory overload, and every single thing he did to her was amplified a thousand percent.
She loved it.
She hated it.
Matt growled, biting her neck. “Take what I give you.”
Liza was too far gone to pretend offense. There was nothing she wouldn’t give him, wouldn’t offer up freely.
He’d proven himself worthy…capable.
The only man to ever do so.
He pinched her other nipple and this time, she moaned but held steady.
