His hips buck forward involuntarily, pushing deeper into my mouth, and that's when I stop. Completely.
I pull away and deliver three sharp slaps to his cock, the sound echoing off the alley walls. He jerks back against the brick, eyes wide with shock and arousal.
"What did I tell you about moving?" My voice is ice cold, the same tone I used on suspects who thought they could lie to me. "What did I tell you about who's in control here?"
"I'm sorry, I — " he starts, but I cut him off with another slap.
"You're sorry?" I stand up slowly, my body pressed against his, my face inches from his. "You think being sorry fixes disobedience?"
The dominance coursing through me is unlike anything I've ever felt. In interrogation rooms, I was controlled, professional. This is primal, possessive, raw. I want to mark him, claim him, make sure he never forgets who he belongs to.
"You keep this up, and things are going to get rough," I warn him, my hand wrapping around his shaft with just enough pressure to make him gasp. "Is that what you want? You want me to stop being nice?"
His eyes flash with something dark and hungry. "Yes," he breathes. "I want you to stop being nice."
The admission sends heat flooding through me, pooling low in my belly. I can feel how wet I am, how my body is responding to having complete control over him. The power is intoxicating, but the need building inside me is becoming impossible to ignore.
"You want rough?" I grip him harder, watching his face contort with pleasure and pain. "You want to see what happens when I really take what's mine?"
Before he can answer, I'm already moving, my free hand working at the button of my pants. The urgency hits me like a freight train - I need him inside me, need to feel him surrender completely while I claim every inch of him.
My pants hit the concrete, followed immediately by my underwear. The cool air against my heated skin makes me gasp, but it's nothing compared to the fire burning through my veins.
“Fucking goddamn," Reaper groans, his eyes locked on my body. "Adriana, you're so fucking — "
"Shut up," I command, but my voice is breathier now, affected by my arousal. I lift one leg, wrapping it around his hip, using the wall behind him for leverage. "Don't say another word unless I tell you to."
I guide him to my entrance, feeling how slick and ready I am. The head of his cock presses against me, and we both shudder at the contact. For a moment, I pause, looking directly into his eyes.
"Mine," I whisper, then sink down onto him in one swift motion.
The sensation is overwhelming — the stretch, the fullness, the way he fills me completely. His mouth falls open in a silent cry, his hands still pressed against the brick even though every line of his body screams that he wants to grab me.
I move, riding him with slow, deliberate strokes. My leg wrapped around him gives me leverage, and I use it, setting a pace that has both of us breathing hard. Each movement sends shockwaves through me, building toward something explosive.
"Look at me," I demand, even though his eyes never left mine. "Watch me take what's mine."
The rhythm builds, my hips grinding against his as I chase the pressure building inside me. I can feel him trembling with the effort of staying still, of letting me control everything. Hiscock hits that perfect spot inside me with each thrust, and I know I'm close.
"Fuck, Adriana," he gasps, breaking his silence. "I can't—I need to—"
"No," I pant, my movements becoming more erratic as the orgasm builds. "You wait. You wait until I — "
I lose my words. Lose my thoughts. The climax hits me like lightning, tearing through my body with an intensity that makes my vision white out. I cry out, my back arching, my grip on him tightening as waves of pleasure crash over me. For a moment, I lose everything except the sense of being with him, connected to him, owning him.
My legs nearly give out as the aftershocks roll through me, my body trembling against his. For a split second, I'm falling, my balance completely gone, but his hands finally leave the wall to catch me. Strong arms wrap around my waist, holding me steady against him as I shake with the intensity of what just happened.
"I've got you," he murmurs against my ear, his voice rough with restraint.
The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds me so carefully even while he's buried inside me and desperate for his own release — it does something to my chest that I don't want to examine too closely.
I pull back to look at him, my breathing still ragged. His face is strained, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he fights for control. That he's holding back, waiting for my permission even now, sends another wave of heat through me.
"You belong to me," I tell him, my voice steady despite the way my heart is hammering. "You're mine. I'm yours. And you are going to come inside me. Got it?"
Something breaks in his expression — relief, surrender, pure need all crashing together.
"Yes," he breathes. "Fuck yes."
