Her head tips back, throat bared, breath caught between denial and surrender.
“Yeah,” I whisper darkly, curling my fingers until she’s clawing at the sheets. “That’s what I thought.”
I tear my hand away before she can fall apart, earning a strangled cry of frustration, and shove my pants down just far enough to free myself. My cock drags hot and heavy against her, slick from her soaked pussy, the head pressing right where she wants it most.
Her eyes snap to mine, pleading without a word.
I lean down, lips at her ear. “You’re not ready. You haven’t earned it.”
“Please,” she whispers, breaking, her voice a raw thread.
I bit her throat hard enough to bruise. “There’s my good girl.”
And then I slam into her in one brutal stroke, burying myself in her tight, wet pussy. Her scream shatters in my mouth asI kiss her deeply, swallowing every sound, every curse, every desperate plea.
She’s so tight around me I see stars, and I lose the last shred of control I was clinging to.
I fuck her hard, relentlessly, every thrust a claim, every drag of my cock inside her a promise she’ll never forget who she belongs to. Her nails rake my back, her cries echo through the room, and I don’t let up, not even when she falls apart, clenching around me like she was made for this.
I drag her through it, keep her pinned, keep taking until she’s sobbing against my mouth, wrecked, trembling.
When I finally spill inside her, it’s with a guttural growl against her lips, a brutal surrender I never wanted to give.
I collapse over her, breath ragged, voice raw. “Mine,” I rasp, kissing her jaw, her throat, her swollen mouth. “All fucking mine.”
Her chest is heaving under mine, slick skin pressed to slick skin, sweat cooling too fast in the dark. I’m still buried inside her, throbbing, twitching with aftershocks, and she’s clenching around me like her body doesn’t know how to let go.
Neither do I.
I should pull out. I don’t.
Instead, I drag my mouth across her cheek, down to her jaw, teeth scraping lightly as she trembles. “You feel that?” I mutter against her skin, pushing my hips deeper, grinding just enough to make her whimper. “That’s me inside you. Filling you. Claiming every fucking inch.”
Her hands, shaky, fist at my shoulders, not pushing me away—holding me there. Needy. Desperate.
“You said you didn’t want this,” she whispers, voice broken with exhaustion and something heavier. “Said you didn’t want me.”
I laugh, bitter and low, my breath hot against her ear. “I lied.”
She gasps when I shift, still hard enough to drag another cry out of her, her thighs tightening around my hips like she’s the one caging me now.
“You’ll never walk away from me,” I tell her, rough, too raw. My forehead presses to hers, sweat sticking us together. “Even if you try, Brooklyn—you’ll still feel me. Right here.” My hand slides down, palm spreading over her belly, pinning her in place.
Her eyes flutter shut, lashes wet. “Dean…”
The sound of my name on her lips nearly undoes me all over again.
I thrust shallow, lazy, messy. Just to feel her walls grip me. Just to remind her who owns her body now. She gasps, shudders, her nails dragging red lines down my back.
“I shouldn’t…” she breathes, eyes darting away like she’s afraid to say it. “God, I shouldn’t?—”
“But you did,” I cut in, biting the words against her swollen mouth, kissing her hard enough to silence the guilt. “And you’ll do it again. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
Her broken moan is the only answer I need.
I slow, rocking into her until it’s unbearable, until she’s trembling beneath me again, overstimulated but helpless. Her tears streak her temples, and I lick one away, tasting salt and sin.
“Baby girl,” I murmur, softer now, my voice almost dangerous in its tenderness, “you’ll never escape me. Even if you wanted to. Especially if you wanted to.”
