I don't give a damn what she's pleading for—I'm going to take it all. I want to rip the flannel off her back, tear her panties to shreds, and bury my cock so deep in her she forgets her own name. My hand moves between us, finding the drenched seam of her panties. I press the heel of my hand against her clit and rub with enough pressure to make her see stars.
Her hips snap forward, chasing the friction.
"That's it," I praise, my voice a rough, predatory rumble. "Ride my hand, Little Bird. Show me how much of me you can take."
She’s panting, jagged breaths tearing out of her chest as she grinds herself against my palm and the unyielding wall of my body. I keep the rhythm steady, punishing circular motions that have her unraveling in my arms. I can feel the hot juices soaking through her fabric, the material so saturated it clings to my skin.
"Oliver, I feel... I feel tight. I need..."
"I know." I kiss her again, deep and possessive, swallowing the high-pitched cries of her release.
I move my hand away and replace it with my heavy hips. I grab her thighs, pinning them around my waist, and I start to fuck her against the door. The wood groans with every impact. Just friction. Just pressure. But the drag of the rough denim against the swollen, weeping lips of her pussy is a beautiful torture.
For both of us.
Every thrust sends a bolt of lightning straight to my core. I’m sweating, my muscles trembling with the effort to hold back. I want to be inside her so badly my vision is blurring. I want toclaim her. I want to make sure no other man ever looks at her again without seeing my mark.
She’s close. I can feel the tension winding up in her body. Her nails dig into my shoulders, sharp and desperate.
"Oliver!" She gasps my name like a prayer.
I thrust harder, faster, losing myself in the rhythm. "Come for me, Avery. Let go."
She stiffens, a high, keen sound escaping her throat, and then she shudders in my arms. Her internal pussy muscles clench, and I feel her gripping my cock even though we’re fully clothed.
I hold her through it, pressing her tight against the door until the tremors fade. My own seed is clawing at the gate, begging to be let out, but I lock it down. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.
I can't. Not like this. Not when she’s vulnerable and stranded and trusting me to keep her safe. If I take her now, I won't stop. I’ll ruin her.
Slowly, agonizingly, I stop moving.
The silence rushes back into the room, louder than before. The only sound is our ragged breathing and the crackle of the fire. I rest my forehead against hers, my eyes closed. My pulse hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Oliver?" she whispers. She sounds wrecked.
I lower her slowly until her feet touch the floor, but I keep my hands on her waist to steady her. Her legs are shaking. I pull back, looking down at her. Her lips are swollen, her eyes glazed with lust, her skin flushed pink. She looks thoroughly, beautifully ravaged.
And I haven't even touched her skin.
I step back, putting a foot of distance between us. It feels like tearing off a limb.
"Fix your shirt," I say, my voice raw gravel.
She looks down, realizing the flannel has gaped open. She clutches it together, her cheeks flushing darker.
"Did I... did I do something wrong?"
"No." I run a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the hunger. "You did everything right. That's the problem."
I turn away, walking to the window. I grip the sill until the tension in my arms makes them shake, staring out at the blinding white snow. The cold radiating off the glass helps, but only a little.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me, Avery," I mutter, half to myself. "But if I don't stop now, I'm going to take you right here on the kitchen floor. And when I take you, Avery, it won't be because we’re bored or because the storm locked us in."
I look back at her over my shoulder. She’s watching me with a mix of fear and fascination.
"It’ll be because you belong to me."
Her breath hitches.
