What an asshole.
I feel him press my ass higher, feeling his hard cock as it presses against my ass, I gasp. “Oh, that’s what you want.” He chuckles. ‘You want my hard cock inside of you, baby girl.”
“Dean, please,” I gasp.
“Yeah, that’s it, beg for my cock.” He rasps in my ear.
I can’t say anything the pleasure crawls through me just from having him torture my body like this. Fuck, I’ve never been so wet in my entire life.
“Dean, please.” I beg. “Please, give me your cock.” I hate myself as soon as the words leave my mouth but I’m fucking desperate if I don’t feeling something soon, I’m going to claw my own eyes out.
He pushes his cock against my ass, sliding the tip through my wetness, each long drag hitting my clit that causes my body to spasm and the gasps crawl from my throat.
His hand digs into my hip as he pushes forward and I feel his cock fill me up. “Fuck, your pussy feels fucking amazing, baby girl, that’s a good girl, you take my cock, take all of it.” He gasps.
Dragging his thick cock inch by inch I can’t help the moans that slide out of my mouth, his hand clasps roughly over my mouth. ’Now you don’t want everyone to hear just how fucking naughty you are for me do you?” I nod. “Fuck, Brooklyn, you are going to destroy me.” He gasps, thrusting deeper now, his hand cutting off any breath I may have.
Fuck, he feels so fucking good, the tremors crawl through my body fast and I am already clenching around his cock, screaming my pleasure into his hand.
He thrusts faster chasing his release and moving his hand circling my clit in devastating strokes, tears out of me like a sob, like a scream, body convulsing around his hand, my nails clawing uselessly at the desk. It’s not gentle, it’s not soft—it’s ugly and feral and all his.
He doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, through the shaking, through the tears, through the desperate gasps of his name. His teeth find my throat, biting down so hard I taste copper when I gasp.
“Mine,” he growls into my skin, voice cracking like it’s breaking him too. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I choke, chest heaving, tears streaking hot down my face. “God, Dean, I’m yours—I’ve been yours?—”
His forehead crashes against the back of my head, his pace unravelling into something rough, wild, endless. Like he’s been waiting to hear that confession for longer than I can even imagine.
When he finally breaks with me—groaning, snarling, losing himself against my body—it feels like he’s emptying every wall, every denial, every ounce of restraint he’s been pretending to hold.
And when it’s over, the silence is worse than the storm.
Because he stays inside me. Because his hand won’t let go of mine. His forehead still presses against the back of my neck.
Even though it should just be sex, just punishment, just heat—neither of us moves.
He doesn’t let me go. Doesn’t let me breathe. My body’s still twitching from the orgasm he ripped out of me when he yanks my wrists higher, slamming them flat on the desk so hard the wood bites into my skin.
“Don’t think it’s over,” Dean snarls against my ear, his chest crushing my back, his cock still buried deep like he’s staking a claim. “You begged me to ruin you—so now you get to take every second.”
My body jerks when he thrusts again, too raw, too soon, dragging a cry out of my throat.
“That’s right,” he growls, pounding into me harder, faster, his hips brutal. “Scream for me, baby girl. Let them hear what I’ve done to you.”
The sound that rips out of me doesn’t sound human. It’s shattered, my nails clawing bloody crescents into the desk, tears stinging my eyes.
“You hate me right now, don’t you?” His voice is fire, venom, obsession. “Say it. Say you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I sob, my voice breaking as another violent wave slams through me. “God, I hate you?—”
He groans, dark and guttural, like the words only make him harder, meaner. His teeth sink into the back of my neck until I taste blood in my mouth from biting down too hard on my tongue.
“You hate me…” His hips slam forward, burying him to the hilt. His voice drops, dangerous, possessive. “…but you’re still cumming for me. Still mine. No matter how much you fight it.”
And he’s right. My body betrays me again, convulsing, clenching around him until I’m screaming into the wood, until my legs give out, until all I can do is hang there in his grip while he drives me through hell.
Dean doesn’t stop. Not when I’m begging. Not when I’m crying. Not when my body is too weak to push back. He keeps going like he’s trying to erase the line between punishment and possession, between hate and worship.
