He leans down over me, one massive hand clamping my hip with fingers that dig in deep enough to promise bruises by morning. The other guides his thick cock back to my entrance, blunt head nudging, parting them with intent. He smirks, slow and wicked, lips curling to show teeth.
“Deep breath, trouble.” Warning rumbles low from his chest, vibrating through the air between us.
He slams into me. Hard. No mercy. One brutal thrust that seats him to the hilt, stretching me wide all over again.
His hand on my hip anchors me like iron, holding me exactly where he wants. The other flattens on my lower belly, palm pressing down firm. I feel him even more this way, every inch rubbing that secret spot deep inside that makes my legs shake uncontrollably, my lungs seize up like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“I can feel myself inside you, right here.” He presses harder, fingers splaying wide over my skin, and keeps thrusting without pause. Non-stop. Aggressive. It hurts in that burning way that borders on too much, but heaven crashes through the pain, waves of it building higher with every drag and slam. I’m lost in the sensation, completely lost in him, in the way he fills me, owns me, breaks me apart only to put me back together around his cock.
Heat coils tight down my spine, electric and building. My legs tremble more and more, thighs quivering against his hips. I can’t even feel my wrists anymore, numb and forgotten behind my back from the belt’s bite. All I can feel is him. Inside me. Pulsing. Claiming. Every vein dragging along my walls, every ridge catching and sparking pleasure that borders on overload.
He keeps that pressure on my belly, thumb sneaking lower to find my clit. He circles it slow but hard, deliberate pressure meeting the rhythm of his thrusts, syncing perfectly to drive me insane.
My body shakes violently, convulsing from the core out. Then it hits like lightning, striking every nerve at once. My eyes roll back hard. Back arches clear off the rug, spine bowing desperately. A moan rips free, mixed with a scream I can’t hold back, raw and broken.
He grunts deep, animal satisfaction rumbling as he picks up the pace even more. Slams so hard the impacts jar through my bones. I know I’m going to have bruises everywhere, my hips, thighs, deep inside, but I don’t care one bit. The sensation is too good, too overwhelming, pleasure drowning out everything else.
“Fuck.” He grunts, hips snapping erratically.
As my orgasm starts fading, waves ebbing slow, I feel him go still, buried deep. His cock pulses hot and thick, spilling inside me in heavy ropes. Warmth invades my walls, flooding full. His entire body tenses like coiled wire, muscles locking everywhere, chest heaving, abs clenching, veins pumping furious under inked skin from neck to forearms. Hair messy and damp with sweat. He looks feral, beautiful in his ruin, a beast.
He doesn’t move an inch. Stays planted deep. I feel every throb of his release, every twitch, his cum leaking slow and warmly down to my ass, marking me further.
“Good girl.” He groans it low, satisfied, as he leans down closer. Arms planted on each side of my head, caging me in, holding his weight so he doesn’t crush me but still dominates.
I try to shift to ease him out now that the storm’s passed, muscles screaming for relief. But his hand moves lightning fast to my neck, fingers wrapping possessively. “Don’t. I’ll leave when I want to.” It’s an order laced with warning, still rough from the orgasm. I want to snap at him, bite back with words, but my entire body is sore, spent. Rug rash burns hot under my back and shoulders. Pain radiates from my arms pinned for so long.
“Please, Flynn. It hurts.” My whisper slips out weak.
He stares down at me for a long moment, eyes searching mine in the dim light. Then he moves, but gentle now. Too gentle for the man who justfucked me like an animal intent on destruction. He eases out slow, careful, then turns me to my side and unbuckles the belt smoothly. I pull my arms to the front slow, wincing. Looking down, I see the bruises already blooming purple rings, cuts.
“I told you I would mark your skin.” He leans in close, breath warm on my face, kisses my forehead softly, lingering.
He stands up fluid, all that power coiling back into place; he pulls his suit pants up and fastens them like nothing happened. I tug my leggings back into place with shaking hands, fabric sticking to damp skin, and I try to stand on wobbly legs, knees threatening to buckle.
He moves before I can fall. Arms wrap around me strong, and he lifts me effortlessly off the floor, pressing me tight to his hard chest, heart still thundering under my ear.
“Let me take care of you.” He murmurs it hot into my ear.
My body shakes harder in his hold, aftershocks rippling.
How can he flip like this? From threats and marks on my skin to this tenderness?
I look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, searching his face. He grins, but it’s dark.
“I can ruin you. Fuck your body until you pass out cold. And still care after you once we’re done.” He starts walking slow down the stairs, carrying me like I weigh nothing, steps steady. “You’ll learn how this works soon enough, trouble.”
Chapter Twenty
Flynn
Icarry her to the bedroom, kick the door open, and lay her on the bed. She curls in on herself immediately, chest rising fast, face flushed. My eyes roam her, wrists bruised, my bite fresh on her neck. And under those leggings? I already know where my fingertips have left their mark.
I should regret it, but I don’t. This is what I am.
This is what I keep buried beneath silk shirts and cold silence, and she—fuck—she presses every single button I have without even trying.
I exhale, head to her bathroom, turn on the faucet, let the warm water fill the space with heat. When I return, she hasn’t moved, and I take her arm and ease her up into a seated position. Then I kneel between her legs. Her eyes meet mine, wide, unsure, but she doesn’t speak. She just…lets me.
