My heel scrapes up the door, seeking purchase, but there's nothing to hold onto except for him. My hands fist in his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt, but he loves it.
"That's it," he growls into me like a starving animal. "Go wild for me, baby."
"Don't stop," I gasp, my hips jerking.
He doesn't stop. His fingers plunge deeper, his mouth never letting go of my clit, like he's desperate to watch me lose control for him.
The orgasm hits me like a blackout. I can't even moan. All the air is driven out of my lungs. I collapse forward, my body convulsing around his hand, his name a silent scream on my lips.
My head lolls back, and I see him—his face flushed, his lips soaked, his eyes wild—as he stands. He licks me from his chin, savoring my taste, before his mouth crashes down on mine so I can taste myself smeared across his lips.
He fumbles his pants open with unsteady hands, then lifts me, pinning my back to the door again as he lines his cock up at my entrance. The head is blunt and obscenely hot, the look on his face all hunger and madness.
"Condom," I manage to choke out. "We need—"
"Fuck that," he growls, his jaw flexing as he shoves inside me in a single, brutal stroke. "You're mine. I want to feel you."
The stretch is insane. He's too thick for me, too damn perfect. It burns for a second, but the stretch is a sweet counterpoint to the pleasure still coursing through my veins.
He bites my shoulder, growling my name, and then he's fucking me hard, his cock pounding my G-spot. The friction is profane, the slap of our bodies echoing in the entryway.
I come again, clenching around him so tight I feel his cock twitch.
He curses, losing rhythm, and then slams me down on him, his whole body shaking as he comes so deep it's almost a religious experience.
I feel him everywhere, making a mess of me. It's so fucking perfect.
He spins us, sliding down the door until he's seated, my ass in his hands. "Ride me, princess."
I gape at him, my eyes wild. "You just…"
"I'm aware. Now fucking ride me until I do it again," he says, slapping my ass just hard enough to sting.
He holds me by the hips and bucks into me once, so hard that it drags a sound out of me—half gasp, half laugh. My thighs are shaking, but I want more. I want every filthy thing he can give me.
He must see it, because he smiles, biting the shell of my ear. "Show me how you like it," he says, his voice wrecked, "and I'll show you how I want to ruin you."
I bring my hand to his jaw, scraping my nails down his neck to his broad, perfect shoulders. "You're going to need to do better than that if you want to ruin me, quarterback."
"Yeah?" His grip tightens, bruising in the best way. "You want it harder?"
"I want everything." I brace one hand on his chest and grind down, taking him so deep I feel him in my throat. The angle makes me see stars, but he just keeps his eyes onme, his hands guiding me, his breath hissing between his teeth every time I clench around him.
"Look at you," he mutters, spreading me even wider. His thumb brushes my clit, lazy at first, then harder, faster, until I can't even think.
I'm babbling, moaning, barely even human. I'm just sensation and need.
He lets me bounce on him, taking him so deep I can't breathe, but then his hand slides up my body, slipping under my bra to play with my nipples, and the other hand—
Jesus Christ.
His thumb circles my asshole, gentle in a way that makes me shiver all the way to my toes.
"That's it, baby," he growls, so close to losing it. "Ride me. Show me how greedy you are for me. Fuck, you're incredible."
I can't stop clenching, can't stop moving, every muscle in my body drawn up tight as a wire.
He keeps rubbing me, his other hand moving from my nipples to my throat. He squeezes like he's marking every inch of me as his. The pressure, the fullness, the stretch of him inside me is too much, too good.
