“I want it,” I cried, surrendering to his dominance and the long-ago pull from our youth. “I want you to fuck me, Lev. I’ve always wanted you to fuck me.”
He snarled, and his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming even harder, even deeper. He was fucking me like he owned me, like heowedme, and was trying to brand himself on my very soul. My pussy clamped down on him, my body trying to pull him even deeper.
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. But it was no use. He was too strong, too skilled, too relentless.
“Come for me, Kara,” he commanded. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
My climax tore through me with the power of a volcano, a blinding curtain of fiery hot bliss burning through me with vivid intensity. My vision went white, blurring at the edges as every pulse of ecstasy tore through me. My toes curled and my fingers gripped at the duvet beneath me as I tried to hold on for dear life.
He didn’t stop. He just kept fucking me. Hard.
There was only this. Only him. Only the overwhelming, all-consuming sensation that was destroying me and remaking me all at once. The anger, the defiance, the control I clung to—it was all gone, washed away in a flood of euphoric bliss.
My last thought was of how I resented him, how I hated my body, and how impressed I was that I was coming so hard.
And then, there was only the feeling.
The raw, relentless, pounding sensation of him inside me. The weight of his body on mine. The sound of his harsh breaths, the guttural sounds he made as he chased his own release.
He fucked me through the aftershocks, his pace never slowing. In that moment, I was nothing more than a vessel for him to use as he saw fit. The pleasure was a drug, and I was an addict, desperate for my next fix.
He finally stilled, swearing under his breath as he buried himself inside me. I felt the hot, thick spurts of his release deep inside me and it sent a final, shuddering wave of pleasure through my plundered body.
For a long moment, we just stayed like that, a tangle of limbs and sweat and satisfaction. The air was thick with the scent of us—sex, my own arousal, and the faint, clean smell of his cologne. It was intimate, primal, and for a heartbeat, I felt a flicker of something that felt dangerously like peace.
Then he moved, pulling out of me in a slow,unhurriedmovement that left me feeling empty and achingly bereft.
He paused, pressing his cock against my stinging backside.
I breathed, just trying to pull myself together once and for all.
He got hard again.
I closed my eyes.
He gripped my welted bottom cheeks and spread me open, holding me there. I knew how I must look to him, what he was seeing, and I thought my humiliation must surely be complete.
I went utterly still.
No.
He couldn’t mean to…
Of course he would.
He spit on my ass and then used his still-slick cock and my own arousal as lube, and pressed into the tight, forbidden ring of my ass. I didn’t have it in me to even fight back.
Pain. White-hot, blinding pain.
A scream tore from my throat. It wasn’t a sound of pleasure. It was the sound of my body being forced open in a way it wasn’t meant to be. It burned so bad, and it was far more intense than I was prepared for, a deep, fierce agony that stole my breath away.
“Lev, please don’t,” I begged, as I tried to scramble away from his torment.
His grip on my hips tightened immediately, and I knew I could not escape this. He leaned over me, his chest a solid wall of muscle against me, his face pressed to my cheek.
“Relax, Kara,” he said darkly. “You can take it. You were a very bad girl, and you deserve this. You deserve to be punished with my cock, don’t you?”
