“Please.” I’m dying. I’m so full of him.
He snaps at my plea, bucking instead of rocking gently into me. Railing me through the sting, the pain, the tearing that follows.
His balls slap against my pussy with each ruthless thrust. Then, his middle finger presses against my clit and rubs. He’s mimicking the movement of his tongue from when he went down on me.
“See what it’s like to be mine? Feels good, don’t it?” He fucks me like a man possessed. Like he can’t get deep enough. There’s no rhythm to it, just desire. “Letting me have you. Letting me find what makes you wet.”
The only sane thing about him is the way he worships me, thrust after thrust. I feel his adoration as vividly as I feel his cock beating my pussy.
“You have such a perfect, tight cunt.Fuck, you’re milking me.”
His raw, unfiltered dirty talk sends white-hot light throughout my body. An orgasm coils in my belly.
The sounds coming out of me aren’t mine. They’re feral, shameless, getting louder the harder he pounds me.
My fingers flex on the old cement. On the floor that’s seen death and cruelty.
Now it bears witness to my desperation. My tears. My shame.
My craving.
“I’m close. Knox.”
He understands my need, my murmured plea, moving his finger faster on my clit. Flicking it on the sensitive area like he did with his tongue.
As he pleasures me, he tightens the rope around my throat, dragging me to the edge. I’m almost there, squeezing him, sobbing for him.
“That’s fucking it.” Right before I unravel, he removes his finger, grabbing my hip and ramming deeper and harder into me. “Need you to come, Skylar.”
I’m so lost to the pleasure, the pain, the insanity of it all that I almost pass out when I climax. My orgasm sends a shock through me, one so intense that I feel it from my head down to my toes.
Knox becomes my everything. The man who decides when and how much I breathe. The one bruising my hips. Who bruises my sensitive walls.
My womb, he’s branding it as his too.
He’s brandingme.
I moan, clenching and unclenching around him. That’s all my body is capable of doing. My limbs are weak, and my soul is floating somewhere high, high, high.
“God. Fuck.Oh, fuck,Skylar.” His moan sounds wounded. Angry.
More pounding. Morefuckandgoddammit, you’re so good.
“Need…” When he doesn’t complete the sentence, I dare to turn my head and look at him.
I lose my breath at what I see in my periphery. The adoration on his face. The darkness and lust.
“Need you to come again.” His eyes flare. The corded veins on his arms come alive. “Need you to do that again, to milk me.”
We shouldn’t make sense. I shouldn’t be crying the first time I have sex. Shouldn’t be gagged and treated like this.
But here, in this place, with Knox, all these shoulds are thrown out the window. His pleasure and mine—our fucking hearts—that’s all that matters.
“Knox. Knox.” That’s the most I’m able to say instead ofmake me comeorI need you.
“I’ll help you with this.” He understands me anyway. Knox pulls on the rope, and it’s almost unbearable now, the lack of oxygen. Unbearable and so, so sweet. “You like it, the way I own you. The control I have over you.”
My reply is my head falling forward between my arms. A moan rumbles past my lips.
