“Louder.”
“Hunter,” I moan, raw and broken open, the name dragged from me like a confession.
“Yeah,” he breathes, snapping his hips harder into mine. “You remember that when you’re alone, aching. When no one else can fuck you like this.”
His hand slides between my legs, fingers finding my clit and circling it with ruthless precision. My head falls back, my moan turns ragged, animal. He knows exactly what he’s doing—what I need—and he’s going to make damn sure I break for him.
“This what you wanted, baby?” he says, hips snapping into mine. “To be stretched wide and filled raw?”
I cry out, thighs shaking uncontrollably.
“Yeah, you like that. My good little goddess,” he growls, biting down gently on my shoulder. “You weremadefor this.”
My orgasm rises like a riptide, fast and violent, crashing through me as I cry out his name again, shattering around him, gasping for air as he keeps moving inside me, giving me all of it.
But he doesn’t stop.
“Oh, you’re not done,” he murmurs, voice wild and hot at my ear. “I’ve still got so much more for you, baby.”
Before I can catch my breath, he pulls out—slowly, deliberately—and I whimper from the sudden emptiness.
Then his hands grip my hips and flip me like I weigh nothing, guiding me onto all fours.
I gasp as the air hits my flushed skin, as the new position stretches me in a whole new way.
“You look so fucking good like this,” he growls, kneeling behind me. One palm smooths over the curve of my ass, then dips lower, spreading me open as he settles back against me.
I hear him groan, like the sight alone is almost too much for him to take.
“This is mine,” he says roughly, his voice low and hungry. “Every inch of you.”
I moan, arching back toward him, greedy for more.
He slides the head of his cock along my slick folds—teasing, maddening—until I’m shaking from the effort of not begging. But I don’t have to. He knows. He always knows.
With one hard thrust, he’s back inside me, deeper this time, hitting that spot that makes my eyes roll back.
“Ohfuck,” I cry out, fingers digging into the sheets as he grips my hips and fucks me with the kind of power that scrambles thought, turns moans into pleas.
“You feel that?” he pants, pounding into me, skin slapping skin. “This is what it means to be ruined, baby. And you love it, don’t you?”
“Yes—God, yes!”
His hand comes around, fingers finding my clit again, circling, pressing, wrecking me all over.
“I want you to come for me again,” he demands. “I want to feel you tighten while I’m buried inside you.”
I don’t stand a chance.
My body breaks again, violently, every muscle contracting as my orgasm hits hard and fast. I scream his name—no shame, no restraint—as I collapse forward onto the sheets, breathless and twitching.
Behind me, his rhythm falters. He groans deep, feral, close.
“Luna. Faith,” he pants, voice wrecked. “I’m so fucking close. Where do you want it, baby? I’m gonna blow.”
He pulls out and I roll over, chest heaving, still trembling as I meet his dark, hungry gaze. “My tits,” I whisper. “I want to see you.”
His breath punches out of him. “Fuck.”
