Her eyes darken, full of defiance.
“You want it too,” she argues.
I bite her breast, then suck hard, dragging a whimper from her throat. Her body arches, her fingers clutching at me, but I don’t let up. I continue the punishment, my mouth marking her perfect tits, my teeth nipping, teasing, owning.
She squirms, desperate, her hips rolling against me, chasing what she wants.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Angelo.”
I drag my lips up to her throat, smirking. “That’s a demand, not a request.”
Her eyes blaze, her breath sharp.
“Fuck me or back up so I can fuck myself,” she growls.
God, if I didn’t hate her, I’d love her. I push her hand out of the way and slam into her, burying myself deep. We moan together, the sound raw.
My arms shake as I brace myself on the table. She’s wrecked beneath me—lipsswollen, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, her eyes barely focusing as they roll back.
And fuck, I can’t stop staring.
She’s not just a force of nature, no ... no, she’s the deity behind it.
The goddess who commands the worst storms, raging wildfires, and everything in between. I’m a lucky man to be inside her.
“You’ve been in my head since that night,” I grit out, drawing back before thrusting into her again.
The table groans beneath us, and I have to hold her in place so it doesn’t shift.
“Fucking you that night ... was better than anyone else. You still are.”
Her eyes flick to mine, pinning me, breath ragged. “Shut up. You’re not good at sweetness,” she snarls, grabbing the back of my neck and crushing her mouth to mine.
I climb on top of her, driving into her with relentless force. And it is fucking—raw, unrestrained, nothing sweet about it. She bites, claws, fights me, her voice sharp with demand.
“Harder.”
“Faster.”
The words come like a chant, like she’s trying to break me before I break her. Igroan, grip her thighs, and shove her knees to her chest, pinning her open so I can bury myself inside her.
Her shins brace against my arms, and I drive into her, her body tight, burning, wrecked.
She shatters, screaming my name like it’s a curse, like she hates me, like she’s swearing vengeance. But I’m not done.
I pull out of her, drag her to the edge of the table, and flip her onto her stomach before she can recover.
A sharp crack fills the air as I swat her perfect, round ass, watching the jiggle ripple through her thighs. She gasps and squirms. Her feet don’t even touch the floor.
“You’re the perfect size,” I appraise.
“Take a picture and fuck me,” she orders.
“So sharp. So prickly.” I muse, dragging the words out, enjoying her frustration.
“Please might work better, Topolina.”
Instead of thrusting in, I glide my cock over her, slow, deliberate, letting her feel every inch without giving her what she wants.
