The threat nearly kills me. My heart hammers so loud I’m sure it’ll give me away, my entire body trembling, burning, begging.
And still, he doesn’t give in.
He holds me like this, his cock teasing the edge of my sanity, his breath hot against my ear. “You’ll break tonight,” he whispers, absolute in his certainty. “And when you do, baby girl, you’ll never survive me.”
His cock nudges deeper, just the tip pressing inside, and my whole body bows off the bed. The stretch is a scream, a promise—and then he pulls back, leaving me empty again.
“No,” I choke out, my voice raw, desperate. “Please?—”
He grins, cruel, savouring every ounce of my weakness. “That’s better. That’s how you beg.” His thumb drags across my swollen lips before pressing back over my mouth, sealing my words into whimpers. “But not good enough.”
The next thrust is harder, deeper, but only for a second—enough to make my eyes roll back, enough to make me clench helplessly around nothing when he withdraws again. My hips chase him, pathetic, needy, but he pins me down with his hand in my hair, his body immovable.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low, mocking growl. “So wrecked you’d sell your soul just to have me stay inside you.”
Tears blur my vision, shame hot on my cheeks, but my body keeps betraying me—arching, straining, begging.
“You want me to fuck you while my daughter sleeps down the hall?” he taunts, his breath hot against my ear. “You want me to ruin you where anyone could walk in and see?”
I shake my head, whimper muffled against his palm.
“Liar,” he breathes. “Your pussy’s telling me the truth. You’re dripping all over me.”
Another thrust—this one deeper, staying a heartbeat longer. I sob against his hand, half from relief, half from the agonyof knowing he’s going to pull out again. And he does, laughing darkly at the broken sound I make.
“Say it,” he orders, his lips brushing mine. “Say you’re mine.”
My body is a live wire, my mind a blur. The word tears out of me before I can stop it. “Yours.”
His eyes blaze. “Again.”
“Yours,” I gasp, shame and hunger twisting into one. “I’m yours, daddy.”
That’s when he breaks.
He slams into me in one brutal stroke, filling me to the hilt, and the sound I make is pure sin, muffled against his palm as my body convulses around him. His teeth sink into my shoulder, his growl vibrating through me as he thrusts again and again, hard and unrelenting, the predator finally claiming his prey.
“Mine,” he snarls into my skin, each thrust punctuating the word. “You fucking belong to me.”
The bed jerks against the wall, the headboard slamming loud enough to make terror spike through me, but he doesn’t slow, doesn’t care, doesn’t stop. If Kate hears, if anyone walks in, it won’t matter. He’s lost in me, feral and savage, and I can’t stop clawing at him, begging for more even as shame and guilt drown me.
My orgasm rips through me, violent and unstoppable, my body clenching so hard around him he curses, fucking me through it until he shudders, spilling inside me with a snarl that sounds like damnation itself.
We collapse together, panting, trembling, my face buried in his shoulder to muffle the broken sobs tearing out of me. His arms lock around me like chains, holding me tight, claiming me in the aftermath just as fiercely as he did in the act.
And for one terrifying, devastating moment I don’t care if Kate finds out.
Heated Breakfast
Morning sunlight burns through the blinds, cruel and exposing, like it knows what I did. What I took.
She’s sitting across from me at the kitchen island, bare legs tucked under the oversized T-shirt she threw on like it could hide the bruises I left on her throat, the red marks blooming along her thighs. It doesn’t. My eyes keep dragging back to them, my body remembering the way she clenched and begged and broke for me.
“Coffee?” she asks Kate, her voice just a little too high, a little too careful.
Kate yawns, stumbling in barefoot, hair a tangled mess. She doesn’t notice at first. She never does. But then she glances between us, and something flickers in her eyes—curiosity, suspicion.
“You two are… up early,” she says, grabbing a mug.
