"Fuck, Shelby." Rough and wrecked. "You look perfect like this. On your knees for me, taking my cock in that pretty mouth."
The words send a bolt of heat straight between my legs. I'm wet, aching, and he hasn't even touched me yet.
He starts moving, guiding my head with his grip on my hair. Shallow thrusts at first, then deeper. Testing my limits, pushing just past them.
"Breathe through your nose." Command. "You can take more."
I can, and I do. Relaxing my throat, letting him slide deeper until he hits the back and I gag slightly. He pulls back, gives me a second, then does it again.
"Good girl." The praise makes me moan around him. "Taking me so well."
He fucks my mouth in earnest now, controlled thrusts. My eyes water, jaw aches, pussy clenches on nothing. His thigh muscles are tense beneath my hand, his breathing harsh.
"Look at me."
I force my eyes up to meet his. The hunger there, the raw need barely leashed—it makes me clench again.
"That's right. I want you watching while I come down your throat."
A few more thrusts and he does, grip painful in my hair, a rough sound tearing from his chest. Heat and salt and bitterness flood my mouth. I swallow everything he gives me, working him through it with lips and tongue until he's shuddering.
But he doesn't give me time to catch my breath. The moment he's finished, he hauls me up by my hair and tosses me onto the bed.
"My turn." He strips off his shirt, kicks off his jeans. Muscles and ink and scars on full display. "Done being careful with you."
He climbs over me, pins my wrists above my head with one hand. The other slides between my legs, fingers parting me rough.
"Fuck, you're soaked." He pushes two fingers inside without warning. I gasp. "Got this wet sucking my cock?"
"Yes." I arch into his touch, desperate for more.
"You want me to fuck you?" His fingers curl, finding that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
"Please."
"Please what?" He adds a third finger, stretching me. "Say it. Tell me what you want."
"I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me like you own me."
Something feral crosses his expression. He withdraws his fingers, positions himself, and drives into me in one brutal thrust.
The stretch, the fullness, the shock of it rips a cry from my throat. He doesn't give me time to adjust. Just pulls out and slams back in, setting a punishing rhythm that steals my breath.
"This what you need?" Rough against my throat. "Me fucking you hard and mean?"
"Yes." Nails digging into my palms where my wrists are pinned. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning to."
Each thrust drives me higher, pleasure building with desperate intensity. He releases my wrists, hands gripping my hips instead, angling me how he wants. The new angle lets him go deeper, hitting something that whites out my vision.
"Touch yourself." Order, not request. "Make yourself come on my cock."
My hand flies between us, fingers finding my clit. Slick and swollen and so sensitive that even light pressure makes me shake.
"That's it." He watches me touch myself, watches my face as pleasure spirals tighter. "Come for me. Now."
The command, the pressure, the relentless drive of his hips—it all crashes over me. Orgasm tears through me. I cry out his name, my body clenching around him in waves.
