“You’re so deep.”
“You’re going to take every inch, over and over.” He wraps an arm around my waist to hold me steady. “Then I’m going to make you come so hard you won’t be able to walk straight. That’s what you want?”
“Oh god, yes.”
He’s driving into me relentlessly now, and all I can do is hold on and let him fuck me. Harder. Deeper. Until I can feel him hitting the end of me.
“That’s it. Scream for me. Scream my name.”
I can feel my orgasm building, and I can’t stop it any more than I can control the screams and moans that are spilling out of me.
“Oh, Grant, I can’t… I’m going to…”
“Give it to me.” He slams into me one more time. “Come for me. Now.”
His hand snakes around between my legs and the second he touches my clit, it sends me flying over the edge.
I come. Hard.
So hard that I lose track of everything except the pleasure and the feeling of Grant’s huge, throbbing cock still pumping in and out of me.
But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down, and now I’m babbling and moaning and screaming all over again.
“This is mine,” he grunts. “Your pussy is mine, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answer, barely able to speak. “God, yes.”
“That’s right. I’ve fucking marked it.Claimedit.”
I’m so close to coming again, and now I can’t do anything but scream as I shatter for him, my whole body trembling.
He keeps fucking me through the entire orgasm, his cock throbbing inside me, and then his grip on my hips tightens and his movements become less controlled as he loses himself in his own climax.
“Jesus fuck, Hurricane,” he groans, and his hips jerk one last time as he comes. He pulls me tight against him, his huge arms wrapping around my body, and we collapse to the ground together.
My cheek is pressed against the cold, hard tile floor, and he’s sprawled out on top of me with his cock still buried inside me.
I’m not sure how long we stay there like that, with both of us struggling to catch our breath.
I’m still trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts when Grant finally pulls out and rolls off me. The loss of his weight and warmth is immediate, and I let out a small sound of protest.
“I know, beautiful. I know.” His voice is low and gravelly as he quickly disposes of the condom, then reaches down to help me up. “Come here.”
My legs are even more unsteady than they were this morning—if that’s even possible—and I have to lean heavily on him as he helps me stand.
“Are you okay?” He looks me up and down, running his hands along my sides like he’s worried he broke me.
“Perfect,” I manage to say. “Sore, exhausted, and completely wrecked. But perfect.”
He grins at that, then bends down to grab his jersey from where he tossed it earlier. He slips it over my head and I push myarms through the sleeves while he helps guide the fabric down over my body.
“There.” He adjusts the hem. “That’s better.”
“Better than being naked?”
“Well, no. Nothing is better than seeing you naked. But better than letting you freeze while I remember where the hell I left my pants.”
I laugh as he spots his sweatpants across the kitchen and goes to put them on. We’re both barely dressed, with him in just the low-slung sweats and me in nothing but his comically oversized jersey. My hair is even more of a disaster than it was before, and I’m pretty sure there are new marks on my neck.
