I’m so wet, the whole mattress is going to need blow drying after we’re done.
“So I hired you,” he continues. “I let you in. I planted the phone. You took the bait, every time. Because you… belong… to me.”
My lips are parted as my breath wisps in and out, hot and labored with each rise and fall of my chest. All of me is exposed right now, inside and out. And while it’s utterly fucking terrifying, I have never wanted anything more than I want Ransome to take me. I don’t even care where it leads us, how deep we go into the darkness that is his life.
I’m going with him.
“Yes,” I moan. “I’m yours. Make me yours, Mr. Rozanov.”
Ransome’s eyes sear deeper into me for a moment before he drives himself inside me again.
This time, though, I can see him. His flexing abs as he moves in and out of me. His hard biceps, tightening under the strain of each push. His solid jaw, gritting to fight back the orgasm that is coming for us both.
“Say it again,” he grits out as our hips find rhythm.
“I want you,” I gasp as we near the edge.
“Again,” he demands.
“Ineedyou.”
Closer… closer…
It’s a game. Push. Pull. Dom and sub and the dance they play. But at the same time, there is nothing staged about it. I need to get off more than I have ever needed anything from anyone.
The thrusts pick up pace, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. I moan and writhe on the bed. Ransome’s temples glisten with the hint of sweat but he doesn’t break. He bites his lips for a moment before his mouth goes slack again. His eyes shifting colors with the movement of the storm inside him are the only physical hint that he too is about to crash.
Ransome lowers himself over me. His mouth covers mine, steals my moans and swallows me whole. Then he pulls back, coming to his knees and yanking my hips forward.
“Who do you belong to?” he demands.
“You,” I answer, and he rewards me with a thrust. My pussy is begging for release, throbbing against his cock.
“Who are you loyal to?”
“You.”
Another thrust.
Then, “Whoownsyou?”
“You do, Mr. Rozanov.”
“Good girl,” he says before slamming himself into me, in and out and in again. Until, a moment later, we both barrel over the edge.
I let the orgasm take me, wave after wave of all consuming heat. My head rolls back, my jaw still unhinged as I struggle to regain my breath, my feelings, my thoughts.
But even when I come to, when the world materializes around me again, I know one thing for certain.
I am his.
I belong to him.
And there is no turning back.
40
AMARA
