My eyes roll back again, another orgasm building already, too fast, too intense. "How many is that now?" he asks, his pace brutal. "Three? Four? You've lost count already, haven't you?" I can't answer, can only moan, my body shaking, overstimulated, my nails scratching at the glass uselessly.
He pulls out suddenly, turning me around and lifting me up completely, my legs wrapping around his waist automatically, my back against the window. "Hold on," he says, then he's fucking up into me while holding my entire weight, the angle making him hit impossibly deep.
I scream, my nails digging into his shoulders, scratching down his back, the position making everything more intense, gravity pulling me down onto him with each thrust. "That's it," he groans. "Scratch me, mark me up, I want to feel it." I drag mynails down his back so hard I know I'm breaking skin, my body convulsing around him again, another orgasm tearing through me without warning.
"Good girl," he praises, but he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just keeps fucking me through it, my head falling back against the window, my eyes rolled back, completely gone. He walks us back to the bed, laying me down but not giving me a moment to recover, immediately hooking my legs over his shoulders and pounding into me.
One hand wraps around my throat again, that perfect pressure, his thumb stroking the side of my neck while he squeezes, making everything fuzzy, making the pleasure sharper. "Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes to focus on his face even though they want to roll back. "There you are, stay with me." But I can't, it's too much, too good, my eyes rolling back again as another orgasm builds. "How many times are you going to come for me?" he asks, his hand tightening slightly on my throat. "You're so sensitive, so perfect, I could make you come all night."
"Can't," I whimper, but my body is already tensing again. "Too much, too good."
"Yes you can," he says firmly. "Give me one more, I know you have it." His free hand moves between us, circling my oversensitive clit, and I scream, my back arching off the bed, my nails scratching down his chest as I come again, harder this time, my whole body shaking. He releases my throat, both hands gripping my hips now, his pace becoming erratic, finally chasing his own release.
"Outside," I gasp weakly, barely able to form words. "You have to pull out." He laughs, actually laughs, his thrusts not slowing. "Why the fuck would I cum outside you? We're husbandand wife, you think I'm going to waste my seed anywhere but inside you?"
"We're not married yet," I whimper. "Close enough," he growls, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "You're mine, this pussy is mine, everything about you belongs to me, I'm going to fill you up and you're going to take it."
"Please," I try weakly, but I have no strength left to fight, my body completely spent. "Shh," he soothes, even as his pace becomes punishing. "You're going to take it like a good girl, you're going to let me breed you properly." He buries himself as deep as possible, his whole body going rigid, his hands gripping me so tight it hurts, then I feel him pulse inside me, feel the warmth spreading, flooding me completely. "That's it," he groans. "Take all of it, every drop, you're mine now, marked inside and out."
He collapses on top of me, both of us struggling to breathe, covered in sweat, my body still twitching with aftershocks. After a moment, he rolls off me, pulling me against his chest, his fingers tracing the marks we left on each other. "Are you okay?" he asks softly. "I got carried away."
"I'm okay," I whisper, even though I'm completely wrecked, even though I can barely think straight. "That was intense."
"You did so good," he praises, kissing my forehead. "Came so many times for me, let me use you however I wanted, you're perfect."
I look down at his body, seeing the scratches covering him, long red lines everywhere, some deep enough they might scar.
"I really marked you up," I say quietly.
"Good," he says, running his fingers over them. "I want to see them every time I look in the mirror, want to remember this."
We lie there in silence for a while, both of us too exhausted to move, his hand stroking my hair while I drift in and out.
Eventually, he shifts slightly. "
I need a drink, all that was exhausting in the best possible way."
My stomach drops. This is it. "I ordered some wine earlier," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It should still be chilled, let me pour us some."
Chapter 36
"You're offering me a drink?" he asks, raising an eyebrow with a slight smile, his hand still playing with my hair. "That's a first, you never want to drink with me."
"Special occasion," I say, slipping out of bed on shaky legs, wrapping the sheet around myself, my whole body sore and trembling. I walk over to the small table where I left the bottle earlier, my hands shaking as I pick up both glasses, the one with the dissolved sedatives already waiting, looking innocent. I grab both glasses and walk back to the bed, handing him the drugged one while I keep the clean one for myself, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
"What are we toasting to?" he asks, sitting up against the headboard, completely relaxed, his hair messy from my hands, scratches covering his entire torso, looking thoroughly used.
"To us," I say. "To whatever this is." He looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression, his eyes searching mine like he's looking for something, then he raises his glass.
"To us." We clink glasses, the sound seeming too loud in the quiet room, then he drinks deeply while I take a small sip of mine, watching him over the rim.
He makes a face immediately, his nose wrinkling. "This tastes off, did you get this from the hotel bar? It tastes like it's gone bad or something." My heart stops, my hands starting to shake. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," he says, swirling the wine in his glass, looking at it suspiciously. "Tastes bitter, kind of metallic, like it's been sitting out too long or maybe the bottle was bad."
"We can get something else if you don't like it," I say quickly, my voice coming out too high, and panicked, reaching for his glass. He pulls it away from my reach, shrugging. "No, it's fine, I've had worse, I've drunk things that would kill most people." Then he drinks the rest of it in one long gulp, setting the empty glass on the nightstand, completely unaware of what he just consumed.
I sit there frozen, watching him, waiting for some sign that the drug is taking effect, my whole body tense.
