Like always, he doesn't show me mercy. His mouth and hands own me, and the high makes me dizzy.
"Look at me, sugar," he orders, tone deeper than the night.
I blink hard to focus, lifting my face out of the pillow and meeting his stormy gaze. The black in his pupils swallows the faint brown surrounding them. For the grand finale, he drags the tip of his tongue along my slit, so achingly slow, more incoherent cries fly past my lips.
His deep chuckle vibrates against me.
"Are you ready for the main event?" he questions.
I try to catch my breath, my words lost to the thundering pulse between my ears.
He flips me onto my back, then crawls up my body, smirking with a devilishly cocky grin. He pushes my thigh up toward my chest, and thrusts inside me in one hard, brutal stroke.
"Yes," I cry out, barely audible, as pleasure tears through me.
He pulls back, then sinks deeper, until his hips press flush against me. His eyes stay locked on mine, dark and hungry, as if we haven't been tangled together several times since before we even got into the bedroom.
My breath comes out in ragged bursts. I twist my hands around the sheets, increasing the tension.
He notices, and his lips twitch. He thrusts hard, and I moan, trembling. He places his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries, and lowers his lips to my ear.
His tongue swipes my earlobe, then he hisses, "Goddamn, you're tight," his jaw flexing against mine.
"Mmm," I moan, wrapping my free leg around his waist and digging my heel against his ass, trying to take him deeper with a furious and desperate upward thrust.
"Naughty girl. I'm in charge," he reminds me. Then, in punishment, he slows his movements, rolling his hips so every inch drags along my raw nerves.
I bite down on his palm, and wickedness flashes across his face.
"So you want to play like that?" he taunts, then moves his hand to my wrists, stretching them into the air as high as they can go.
"Wyatt," I cry out against his hand.
His thrusts turn frantic, pounding into me so hard, I spiral and see stars. The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard knocking the wall in a rhythm that matches the explosiveness of my pounding heart.
His hand moves from my mouth to my throat. His fingers brush under my jaw, then land on my pulse.
More unrecognizable syllables tear from me, lost in my haze of need.
"You feel what you do to me?" he rumbles. He thrusts harder, deeper, hips grinding against mine until more stars burst behind my eyes.
"Kiss me," I beg.
His lips slide against mine, wet and hungry. We kiss like we're drowning, like we're each other's oxygen, our tongues tangling in the darkness.
I dig my nails into the part of his hand I can reach, my arms still straight in the air.
He grunts into my mouth, a tremble running through him. He repositions my thigh over his shoulder, changing the angle.
"Oh my…" Another round of adrenaline attacks me. I shudder violently beneath him.
He's relentless, coaxing me into an extended high.
My body obeys him, splintering apart, my back arching, moans ripping from my throat.
Every muscle spasms around him, failing to lock as he rips his cock out of me before pushing back inside.
His jaw twitches next to mine before he lets out a strangled roar, his movements becoming savage. Then he groans, "Fuck, sugar," as he spills inside me. Heat floods me, leaking on the bed as he continues to thrust through his orgasm.
