“You think you can distract me that easily, princess?” he hisses. I freeze, my breath locked. He slowly trails up to my jaw, stroking. “Okay, little dove. I’ll make you a deal. If I pull up that sleeve and find you unmarked, I’ll let you stay. If not, you’ll come with me. Deal?”
His daring eyes turn darker with every second I remain silent. Because, of course, there are new marks under my sleeve. His nostrils flare. Without another warning, he grips my elbow, ready to drag me.
And there is only one way I can think of to stop him.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
He halts, his eyes snap to mine, heat still radiating off him like an open flame.
“What was that, princess?” He arches an eyebrow.
“Fuck me,” I repeat, louder, my voice steadier.
“Fuck you?” He barks a laugh that’s more rage than humor. “You saved yourself to be fuckedhere? Like a whore in some dark room.”
I swallow his words, along with his taste in my mouth, trying to find the confidence in my voice.
“Yes,” I murmur. “I want you. Not later, when it’s safe. Now, in the heat of it, when you are burning for me.”
Something raw flickers on his face, a glimpse of the thing he tries to cage.
“Beg.” He shoves me onto the desk, sending stationery and letters flying off on both sides.
“Pl-please.” I steady myself on my elbows.
“Say you’re mine.” His large hand cups my jaw.
I nod. His eyes harden.
“Use your words,” he hisses, his grip tightening on my face.
I swallow, loudly, heart pounding against my ribs.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
In a flash, he rips his suit jacket off, then undoes his belt and trousers, and draws his large cock. I suck in a sharp breath. For a moment, I hesitate. I forgot how huge he is.How will I take him?
But before I can blink, Mason bundles up my dress, parts my legs, and rips off my panties. And then his hard erection is pressed between my legs. I grip his shoulders, breathing hard, lungs stuttering for air as he circles his crown against my opening.
“Fuck,” he grunts when he finds me soaked. “Tell me it’s me you are wet for. Not that fucking prick.”
Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.
I nod. And he thrusts inside me, in one go.
A cry rips from my throat. The sound muffles by the hard muscles on his chest pressed into my mouth. My whole frame shakes around his enormous cock. It feels like he’s shoved his fist inside me.He strokes my waist, pulling my head back, the movement sending a tear rolling down my cheek.
“Bleed for your king, princess,” he growls as my hymen breaks around his crown, and with it, every ounce of my resistance.
He pulls back, looking down where our bodies are joined, his face twisting at the sight of my blood smeared on his cock.
“Fuck,” he groans with a want that feels like it could devour me whole. He’s never looked more feral, more primal. “I knew you would feel this good.” He starts thrusting harder.
Every movement sends a fresh shock of pain through my core.I have never felt so full before. It fucking hurts. It hurts so much, screams tear from my throat, irrepressible. I bring a finger to my lips, wedging it between my teeth, but he yanks it out.
“Mason, please,” I beg.I don’t want to scream.
He pins my hand to the desk, beside my face, then pushes his own hand into my mouth. I bite down on the bittersweet mixture of pain and pleasure, stifling my cries against the back of his hand, as he grabs the valley of my neckline and drills his cock into me. Inching in with every thrust, he tears through my walls—breaking me, stretching me, filling me beyond my capacity—until I take him in, to the hilt, and his balls slap against my arse.
