He hissed and yanked his arm free.
Banding an arm around her waist, he threw her face down on the bed. She pushed onto one arm, but his hard body hit her back, pressing her back down.
He pinned her easily. He licked and sucked across her back and shoulders as her struggles grew weaker and weaker, her strength no match against his. He had free rein to score his teeth into her flesh, to pull on her hair, the sharp stings in her scalp a reminder she was his to enjoy. Free rein to take her any way he wanted.
And she melted.
He dominated her, fully, easily, his mastery over her so complete she had no qualms that he would truly hurt her. He knew just the right pressure to torment her without causing harm. And she knew no matter what she did, how she fought, she could never truly harm him, either. The blows that she landed, he allowed. Her attacks, he controlled.
Absolute freedom rushed through her veins. She could act out her most impetuous, irrational, wanton sensibilities, and he would absorb it all. Take every part of her.
He pushed her leg up, until her knee was cocked up by her waist. The rough wool of his trousers scraped against her bottom and the inside of her thighs. Sin grabbed the back of her neck, pinning her in place, and notched the crown of his length at her entrance. He slid in on one hard stroke.
Winnifred moaned. He slowly pulled from her, his cock dragging along her nerve endings, before pounding back in. An agonizingly unhurried retreat; a fierce and triumphant hammering home. She needed more, faster, but she couldn’t raise her hips to meet him. She reached behind her, found the loose fabric of his falls, and tugged at him to pick up his speed.
Sin snarled and slapped her hand away.
Gripping her hip, he rutted into her. A steady stream of Gaelic rumbled from her husband’s lips, the foreign words making him sound savage. Feral.
She’d brought Sinclair to this. Just as he drove her past her limits, she’d done the same to him. The realization made her feel powerful. Desired.Accepted.
Sin understood what she needed when she hadn’t even known it herself.
The pads of his fingers dug into her neck, hard enough to leave bruises. Come morning, she’d be bruised all over Marked by her marquess.
His grunts filled the chamber. His thrusts shook even that huge bed. Winnifred held onto the coverlet, the muscles in her core coiling tighter. The friction against her sensitive flesh almost overwhelming.
Sin leaned down and licked a path across her shoulder blade. “I love how you taste.” His voice was a growl. “How you smell. It’s intoxicating. I could get drunk doing nothing but fucking this tight little pussy.”
“Oh God.” She clenched her eyes shut.
He chuckled softly. “I own this sweet pussy, don’t I?”
“Yes.” She gasped, her breath going short. Her channel clutched at his manhood, the beginnings of her crisis fluttering to life.
He yanked her head back. “Not yet. You don’t get to finish until I say.”
“Please.” Tears filled her eyes, the need to release so great. “Please. I need …” Her voice trailed off as her lungs squeezed tight. There was no way she could fight this. She was moments from bliss and no demand of his would stop it.
“All right.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Let go. Squeeze that pretty pussy all over my cock.”
With a cry, she did.
Her body stiffened, her limbs shook. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, the release rivaling her flood of emotions.
She could bare herself, explore the darker emotions she’d always kept hidden. With Sin, she didn’t have to hide.
Tears burned her eyes. She had never felt so undone in her life.
Sin ground into her, groaning. A spurt of warmth flooded her core before he pulled out. Wet heat splashed across her bottom and lower back.
Another mark.
Branding her as his.
He lowered his body, his chest brushing her shoulders. His breath came hot and quick against her ear. “Know this. Whatever you do. Whatever you say. I’m never letting you go.”
Her body sagged into the mattress. And, for the first time ever, Winnifred let herself cry in front of another person.
