My hands, which had been fisted in the sheets, now found his back. My nails dug into his skin, a desperate, instinctual attempt to anchor myself in the stormy waters of this unexpected second round of fucking.
He seemed to like it. He growled, and his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming even harder, even deeper.
“You like that, don’t you?” he grunted. “You like it rough.”
I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but my body betrayed me. My hips lifted to meet his. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, a desperate, instinctual attempt to get closer, to take more of his thick cock in my needy pussy.
He laughed triumphantly. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew you were a naughty girl underneath all that attitude.”
He shifted his angle, and suddenly, he was hitting that spot inside me, the one that made my toes curl and my vision blur.
I was going to come.
Again.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I fought it, my teeth gritted, my body tensing, trying to hold on, to cling to the last vestiges of my control and my dignity, but it was no use. He was too strong, too skilled, too relentless.
“Come for me, Kara,” he commanded.
That was it. Those words were all it took.
The orgasm ripped through me, tearing a scream from some deep place inside me. It wasn’t a gentle, rolling wave of pleasure. It was a tsunami, a cataclysmic explosion that shattered my world into a million pieces. My back arched, my legs shook. I was a ship torn apart in a hurricane, my body a collection of unrelated parts, my senses overloaded.
He didn’t stop. He just kept fucking me even harder, his hips slamming into me, bruising me.
I was dimly aware of my own voice, a stream of incoherent sounds, a mixture of sobs and moans and pleas, but it felt like it was coming from someone else. Someone I didn’t recognize. Someone that wasn’t me.
My last coherent thought was a grumpy, resentful acknowledgment of my own surrender.
Damn him.
Then the world went white.
Time lost all meaning. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. He was a machine, a force of nature, and I was the ground he was tilling, the earth he was reshaping with his cock. He fucked me through the aftershocks, his pace never faltering.
My body was his. A plaything. A canvas for his desire.
I was lost. So completely and utterly lost.
When he finally stilled, his cock buried deep inside me as it pumped his seed inside of me for the second time that night, a strange quiet descended over the room. The only sound was our ragged breathing and the frantic thumping of our hearts.
He rolled off me, but quickly pulled me into his arms, my back to his chest. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I felt oddly reassured by his solid presence engulfing me.
My mind had been wiped blank.
There was only this.
Only him.
Only the lingering throb between my legs, the phantom sting on my ass, and the scent of him in my lungs.
“Who do you belong to, Kara?”
His repeated question wasn’t a surprise. It was a final nail in the coffin of my defeat.
I closed my eyes, the words a surrender. “You,” I whispered. “I belong to you.”
He nuzzled my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing my shoulder.
