His gaze rakes over me as I step out of the bathroom, dark and hungry, lingering on the black lace hugging my skin. “Catherine,” he says, voice rough like gravel.
I don’t answer with words. I walk straight to him, stopping between his knees. His hands come up immediately, settling on my hips, thumbs tracing the delicate edge of the lace panties. Heat pools low in my belly from that touch alone.
I lean down first, cupping his jaw with both hands, and kiss him. The moment our mouths meet, he takes over. His lips part mine, tongue sliding in deep and claiming, a low growl vibrating in his chest. One hand slides down to cup my ass, fingers digging in, pulling me closer until I feel the hard line of him through his trousers.
He stands without breaking the kiss, towering over me, and starts walking me backward, toward the bedroom. His palm cracks against my ass once, sharp and possessive, the sting blooming hot across my skin. I gasp into his mouth, and he does it again on the other cheek, harder, while his other hand kneads the flesh he just struck. Each step he forces me to take is controlled by his grip, his body guiding mine exactly where he wants it.
My calves hit the mattress. He keeps pushing until I sit, then follows me down, guiding me onto my back. His mouth never leaves mine, kissing me deeper, hungrier, teeth grazing my lower lip.
I can’t believe this is real.
Two years ago I used to lie awake imagining Cassian Rourke touching me exactly like this, taking complete control of mybody, and now he’s here, doing it, making every forbidden fantasy feel small in comparison.
He breaks the kiss only long enough to strip the lingerie away. Fingers hook under my bra straps and yank them down my arms, baring my breasts. They spill free, full and soft, nipples already tight from wanting him. His mouth descends instantly, sucking one deep while his large hand cups the other, thumb flicking across the peak. The pull of his mouth sends sparks straight between my legs.
He drags my panties down in one swift motion. I kick them off the rest of the way, completely naked under him now while he still wears his shirt and trousers.
He moves fully over me, knees forcing my thighs apart. One strong hand gathers both my wrists, pinning them high above my head against the mattress. His grip is iron. I test it once, arching slightly, but he tightens without effort and holds me there.
Then he settles his hips between my legs and presses forward.
The hard, thick length of his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, grinding slow and deliberate right against my bare core. Every ridge and inch of him drags over my slick folds through that barrier, teasing, promising. Heat throbs through me with each roll of his hips. I lift into him instinctively, chasing more friction, but he controls the pace completely, keeping me trapped and aching beneath him.
His mouth trails down my throat, sucking hard enough to leave marks, then lower again to my breasts, alternating between them with bites and long, wet pulls that make me whimper. Allthe while, his lower body rocks in steady thrusts, the pressure of his clothed erection driving me higher without mercy.
I arch up hard against him, testing the iron grip on my wrists. The stretch burns in my shoulders, but I twist anyway, rolling my hips in a sharp grind that drags my slick folds along the rigid length still trapped behind his trousers.
One of my legs hooks high around his waist, heel digging into the small of his back to pull him tighter. I want more pressure, more everything, and I’m not going to lie still and wait for it.
He growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my neck where his mouth works another bruise into my skin. His free hand clamps down on my thigh, fingers bruising as he forces my leg higher, opening me wider. I nip at his jaw in retaliation, teeth scraping stubble, and feel his cock twitch hard against me.
That’s all it takes.
He releases my wrists abruptly. Both hands drop to my hips, grip tight, and he flips me onto my stomach in one brutal motion. The world tilts. My cheek hits the mattress, breath knocked out in a soft gasp.
Before I can push up on my elbows, his palm lands on my shoulder blades, pressing my chest flat to the bed. The weight of his hand is absolute. I can’t move my upper body at all.
His knees shove my thighs apart. Cool air kisses my exposed skin for only a second before his fingers trace me from clit to entrance in one long, possessive stroke. I’m wet now, swollen and aching from everything he’s done, and the glide is effortless. He circles my clit once, twice, then sinks two fingers deep without warning.
The stretch steals my breath. He doesn’t ease in. He thrusts hard and fast from the start, curling on every stroke to hit that spot inside that makes sparks burst behind my eyes.
Wet sounds fill the room, unmistakable. I turn my face into the pillow to muffle the moan that rips out of me.
“You wanted to fight me for it?” he mutters against my ear, breath hot, body leaning over mine. “Take it, then.”
His fingers drive deeper, pace relentless. Pleasure coils tight and vicious, low in my belly. My thighs shake. I try to push back onto his hand, chase the rhythm, but his weight keeps me pinned exactly where he wants me. All I can do is take it, hips rocking in tiny, desperate jerks.
My orgasm hits suddenly, my back arching against his restraining palm. Every muscle locks. I clench hard around his fingers, pulsing in waves that leave me gasping into the pillow, toes curling against the sheets.
He doesn’t stop, just keeps stroking me through it until I’m twitching, oversensitive and trembling. Only then does he pull his fingers free.
I hear the rustle of fabric, the metallic rasp of a zipper. His hands return to my hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he yanks me up onto my knees. My chest is still pressed to the bed, ass high, thighs spread wide. Exactly how he wants me.
The blunt head of his cock nudges my entrance. No hesitation. He pushes in with one long, deep thrust that seats him to the hilt. The stretch is intense, almost too much after coming so hard. We both groan. He feels thick, hot, filling me completely.
He starts moving immediately. Hard. Fast. Skin slaps against skin. The bed shifts under the force of it. His fingers bruise my hips as he pulls me to meet every snap of his pelvis. I shove back just as fiercely, taking him deeper, chasing the friction that’s already building again.
His hand slides around my hip, fingers finding my clit. He rubs tight, firm circles, no mercy. The pressure winds me higher instantly. My breath comes in ragged pants against the pillow. I hear myself moan his name, raw and broken.
