"You can," he says, and there's steel beneath the gentleness. "You will."
He seals his lips around my clit and sucks, and the world whites out.
My hips buck against his face, but his hands are there, pinning me down, holding me exactly where he wants me as his tongue works in relentless circles. The pressure builds impossibly fast, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of myspine until I'm trembling, teetering on the edge of something enormous.
"That's it," he coaxes between strokes. "Let go for me, Sparrow. I've got you."
His fingers join his mouth, two of them sliding inside me with a slick, perfect pressure that makes my back arch off the bed. He curls them, finding that spot deep inside that sends lightning crackling through my veins, and I'm gone.
The orgasm crashes through me like a tidal wave, pulling me under, drowning me in wave after wave of blinding pleasure. I cry out; his name, maybe, or just sound without meaning; my thighs clamp around his head; my fingers pull at his hair hard enough to hurt. He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow. Just works me through it with tongue and fingers until I'm boneless and gasping, tears streaming into my hair.
"You’re beautiful," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh. "So fucking beautiful when you come."
I can barely breathe. Can barely think. But I know what I want, know what I need, with a clarity that cuts through the haze of pleasure.
“Your cock. I want your cock,” I say. And as I lock eyes with him, I add, “I want you to fuck me hard. I want to moan. I want to scream. I love you, Breaker, and I want to feel every inch of you.”
His eyes darken, something primal and possessive flickering behind them. He rises over me, shedding his pants in one fluid motion, and the sight of him — hard and thick and straining toward me — makes my mouth water.
“You want it hard?" he growls, positioning himself at my entrance. "You want to scream?"
“Yes." The word comes out desperate, wanton. "Please, Breaker. I need you."
He pushes inside me in one long, slow stroke.
The stretch is exquisite. My body opens around him, accommodating his size, welcoming him home. We both groan as he bottoms out, his hips flush against mine, every inch of him buried deep inside me.
For a moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe together, foreheads touching, sharing the same air. The intimacy of it is almost overwhelming — more intense than the physical sensation, though that's devastating enough.
“I love you," he says, the words raw. "Fuck, Riley, I love you so much it scares me."
My heart clenches. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Then be scared with me."
He kisses me — deep, claiming — and then he starts to move.
The first thrust is slow, deliberate, letting me feel every ridge and vein as he withdraws almost completely before sliding back in. I gasp against his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders. The second thrust is harder, faster, and I feel it everywhere — in my spine, my toes, the very marrow of my bones.
“More," I beg. "Harder."
He groans and gives me what I ask for.
His hips snap against mine with bruising force, driving into me with a rhythm that's relentless, punishing, perfect. The headboard slams against the wall, keeping time with our bodies. I'm moaning with every thrust, sounds I didn't know I could make spilling from my lips like prayers.
“That's it," he moans, voice wrecked. "Let me hear you. Want the whole damn clubhouse to know you're mine."
The possessiveness in his words sends a fresh wave of heat crashing through me. I am his. Completely, irrevocably his. And right now, with him buried inside me, I wouldn't have it any other way.
He shifts his angle, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder, and the new position sends him impossibly deeper. I cry out ashe hits that spot inside me, the one that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
“Right there," I gasp. "Oh god, right there, don't stop.”
He doesn't stop. If anything, he drives harder, faster, his thumb finding my clit and circling with devastating precision. The dual stimulation is too much, not enough, everything all at once.
“Come for me," he commands, voice ragged. "Come on my cock, Sparrow.”
The orgasm rips through me like lightning splitting a night sky.
My entire body convulses around him, muscles clenching so tight I'm afraid I might break something — him, me, the bed beneath us. I scream his name, the sound raw and primal, tearing from somewhere deep in my chest that I didn't know existed. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, each one more intense than the last, and Breaker doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just keeps driving into me with that relentless rhythm that makes me feel like I'm dying and being reborn all at once.
