“You’re everything,” he says, punctuating each word with a thrust. “Everything.”
My nails carve half-moons into his shoulders as he pistons into me, each thrust jolting my body against the stone.
The friction is brutal and perfect.
Heat floods my core--
Almost there--
Please--
GOD--
He tears awayagain.
Tears blur my vision. “Gregory!”
His grin is feral as he carries me back to the blankets in front of the fire. “I’ll let you cum again soon. Maybe.”
Maybe.The word is a brand.
“You’re evil,” I inform him.
He merely shrugs. He positions himself over me, classic missionary.
He sinks into me with agonizing slowness, stretching me fully once again. Every vein on his cock is a ridge I feel.
Sweat drips from his jaw onto my breasts. His control is terrifying. The clenched jaw, the throbbing vein in his neck, the tremor in his biceps as he holds himself back.
He finally starts moving again in torturous, shallow thrusts.
Need--
More--
NOW--
My hips buck frantically. “Please-- I need--”
“Iknow.” He hitches my thigh higher, the new angle scraping my wallsjust there.
Lightning forks through me.
“Right. Fucking. There.” His thrusts turn punishing and precise.
My vision whites out at the edges.
Yesyesyes--
There--
GONNA--
He freezes, then leans down, his lips brushing my ear. His breath is hot on my skin when he speaks: “Now, Sorrel. Cum.Now.”
Then he jackhammers me.
I shatter.
