The rhythm built slowly at first, careful and deliberate, both of us learning the shape of this. He kept checking my face, watching for any sign of discomfort, and I loved him for it even as I wanted him to stop being so careful.
Each thrust hit deeper. The burn was fading into pleasure, hot and sweet and overwhelming. I could hear the wet sounds of him fucking into me.
“I'm not going to break,” I said. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
Something shifted in his expression. Went darker. Hungrier. More intense.
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in, and I cried out. The force of it drove the air from my lungs. Sent pleasure shooting up my spine so intense I saw stars.
“Like that?” His voice had gone rough, almost cruel. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes, like that?—”
He did it again. Harder this time. Setting a brutal pace that had me gasping, clinging to his shoulders, feeling every inch of him as he took me apart. The bed was definitely hitting the wall now, a steady rhythm that anyone in the neighboring rooms could probably hear.
I didn't care. Didn't care who heard. Didn't care about anything except the feel of him inside me, the weight of him on top of me, the way he was fucking me like he owned me.
“Fuck, you take it so well,” he groaned, and his hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. Hard enough that I'd have fingerprints tomorrow. “Take my cock so fucking perfectly.”
“Harder. Give me more.”
He shifted the angle slightly, hooking my legs over his shoulders, and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside me with every thrust. The angle was deeper, more intense, and I was seeing stars behind my eyelids.
“There. Right there. Fuck, Grant, don't stop?—”
“Not stopping.” His voice was ragged, breaking apart. “Never stopping. Going to fuck you until you can't walk straight. Going to ruin you for anyone else.”
“Already ruined. Been ruined since the first time you looked at me.”
He groaned and leaned down to kiss me, brutal and possessive, and the angle changed again. Deeper. Harder. Until I was shaking beneath him, overwhelmed by sensation, by the feeling of being completely filled, completely owned.
“Want to come inside you,” he growled against my mouth. “Want to fill you up. Want to breed you so full you're dripping for days.”
The words should have scared me. Should have been too much, too intense, too claiming. Instead, they made me moan like I was dying for it.
“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, do it. Fill me up. Want to feel you come inside me.”
His rhythm was getting erratic now, losing the careful control he'd maintained. His breath was coming in harsh pants against my neck, and I could feel him getting close. His cock swelled even thicker inside me.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
I reached down and wrapped my hand around myself, already slick with precome. I was so close already, so wound up from the feel of him inside me, the sound of his voice, the way he was completely losing control.
It only took a few pulls before I was right on the edge, pleasure coiling tight at the base of my spine.
“Grant, I'm—fuck, I'm close?—”
“Do it. Come for me. Let me feel it.”
His next thrust hit that spot perfectly, and I came with a shout, back arching off the bed. My hand still worked myself through it, pulling every last drop of pleasure from my body. Come painted my stomach, my chest, even hit my chin. And I felt my ass clench around him, squeezing rhythmically as I rode out the waves.
“Fuck, Jace—” His whole body went rigid, and then he was coming, buried deep inside me. I felt it—felt him pulse, felt the warmth flooding me, felt him shake with the force of his orgasm. His hips jerked forward twice more, grinding deep, and he made a sound I'd never heard before. Raw and helpless and completely undone.
He collapsed on top of me, both of us breathing hard, sweaty and spent. His weight was heavy but I didn't want him to move. Wanted to feel this. Wanted to remember every second.
