There’s no room for argument in his voice. Just dominance. Hunger.
And the second I obey—shifting onto all fours, baring myself to him—he growls low behind me. “Fuck, Harper.”
I feel his hands on my hips, rough and sure. Then the thick head of him nudges against me, and I cry out when he slams in deep with one hard thrust.
“Oh myGod—”
“That’s it,” he grits, one hand wrapping in my hair and yanking my head back. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
His other hand smacks my ass—sharp and hot—and the sting makes me clench around him.
“Jesus,” he groans. “You like that?”
“Yes… God, yes…”
He spanks me again, harder this time, then grabs my hips like he owns me and starts to move. Each thrust is deep, brutal, perfect. I’m delirious with it.
The way he fills me, stretches me, uses me. There’s no holding back now. No softness. Just raw, primalneed.
I moan into the pillow, but he yanks me up by my hair again, forcing me to arch.
“No hiding,” he growls. “You’ll take every inch of me.”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Please, Dean—harder—”
He pounds into me, deeper, faster, making the headboard slam into the wall. My arms shake, legs barely holding me up as he fucks me like a man who’s claimed me and has no intention of ever letting go.
“You’re mine,” he snarls against my neck. “Every damn inch of you. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I cry out, clawing at the sheets, my nails catching in the fabric. “I’m yours, Dean—please—”
“Let go,” he growls. “Come for me. I want to feel it.”
That’s all it takes. My vision whites out as the orgasm rips through me—hot and sharp and endless. My mouth opens in a silent scream before the sound finally breaks free, a desperate, raw cry that echoes off the walls.
I collapse forward, trembling, arms barely able to hold me up.
“Fuck,” Dean growls behind me, his grip on my hips turning bruising. “Fuck.”
He slams into me one final time, deep and possessive, groaning as he follows me over the edge. I feel the tremor run through him as he comes, body pressed to mine, breath ragged and rough in my ear.
We collapse together, tangled and sweating and panting.
I bury my face in the pillow, completely undone.
He kisses the back of my neck, breath warm on my skin. “You okay?”
I nod slowly, then turn my face to the side so he can see the dazed smile on my lips. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were thegentletype.”
His laugh is dark and rough. “That was me holding back.”
“Oh my God.”
“Go ahead and putthatin your book,” he murmurs, dragging the sheet over us and pulling me into his chest.
“Oh, I will,” I whisper. “Though my editor might flag the part where I begged for more after getting spanked.”
He grins into my hair. “Then dedicate the damn book to me.”
