“Use me,” I whisper.
“Izzy…”
“Use me. Please.”
It’s been so long. The only time we’ve been intimate since everything happened was that slow, quiet moment in the bath.
But I don’t want slow.
I want him unhinged. Uncontrolled.
I want him to fuck my throat like heneedsit.
I see the shift in his eyes. The snap. His fingers fist in my hair, guiding me.
“Open your throat, baby,” he says, voice rough.
I breathe deep, relaxing as his hips thrust forward, filling my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.
“Good girl. So fucking pretty on your knees for me.”
I glow under the praise, relaxing further.
My hands grip his thighs as he starts to move—shallow thrusts at first, controlled.
But he’s holding back.
“Can you take more,Cuore mio?” he rasps.
I hum around him in answer.
That’s all it takes.
He fucks my mouth in earnest, each thrust brutal and possessive. My lungs burn, tears stream down my cheeks, my knees ache against the slick tile—and Iloveit.
One hand tightens in my hair while the other slaps my cheek. Pain zaps through me. My clit throbs.
I look up at him, smiling around his cock, encouraging him.
He hits me again.
I moan.
He uses me, chasing his release, panting raggedly until his rhythm stutters.
“Goddamn. Fucking perfect. This fucking mouth—”
Then he’s coming.
No warning, no hesitation.
I swallow every drop, milking him with my lips as his body trembles.
When he slips free, I lick my lips clean, looking up at him.
He stares down at me, reverent.
“You okay?”
