"Chase, please," I beg, needing him to move. The fullness maddens me. I need friction. I need release.
He chuckles darkly and withdraws almost completely, leaving me aching and empty, before slamming back in with a force that knocks the breath out of me. The table legs groan against the floorboards.
"Yes?" he taunts, finding a rhythm both punishing and divine. "You like that?"
"Yes," I sob, abandoning all pride. "God, yes."
He sets a relentless pace. Snap. Thrust. Withdraw. Thrust. Each impact sends shockwaves through my nervous system. His handleaves my back and reaches around to fondle my breasts through my silk blouse, his thumb teasing my nipple until it is a hard pebble of sensitivity.
I unravel. The control I prize so highly vanishes, replaced by a primal need to be used by him. Filled by him. Every thrust hits a spot deep inside me that blurs my vision.
"Look at you," Chase pants, his voice ragged. "Taking every inch. You were made for this. Made for me."
He shifts his angle, driving deeper, hitting a nerve that makes my legs shake. I can't stand; the table and his massive body pinning me against it provide my only support.
"I'm close," I gasp, tension coiling tight in my belly. "Chase, I'm close."
"Not yet," he commands, his hand leaving my breast to slide down between our bodies. He finds my engorged clit, thumb circling the swollen nub with maddening precision while he continues to hammer my pussy from behind. "Not until I say so."
The denial only heightens the arousal. I hang suspended on a razor's edge, desperate for release but held captive by his rhythm.
"Please," I whine, tossing my head back.
"Ask nicely." He bites down on my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark.
"Please, Chase. Please let me come."
"Then come for me."
He increases the speed of his hand, his thumb working in perfect sync with his hips. Sensory overload crashes over me. The worldnarrows down to friction, heat, and the sound of skin hitting skin.
The orgasm hits like a freight train. My entire body seizes, my pussy clamping down around his cock in spasmodic waves. I scream his name, the sound tearing from my throat raw and uninhibited. Stars burst behind my eyelids, vision going white as pleasure rips through me.
Chase groans, the feel of me milking him with desperate contractions pushing him over the edge. He lets go of my clit and grabs my hips with both hands, anchoring me as he drives into me with final, desperate thrusts.
"Cassandra," he roars, burying himself to the hilt one last time. I feel the violent, rhythmic pulse of him as he comes, pumping his hot, thick seed deep into my womb. He bottoms out, his balls slapping against my soaking skin as he fills me to the brim, marking the very center of me with hisbreedingclaim. He holds himself there, trembling, his forehead resting against the back of my neck as he rides out the aftershocks.
We stay like that for a long time, the silence of the cabin slowly returning, broken only by our harsh, ragged breathing. My legs have turned to jelly. If he moves, I will slide to the floor.
Slowly, Chase withdraws. I whimper at the loss, the sudden emptiness a stark contrast to the fullness of a moment ago. He doesn't let me fall. He turns me around and lifts me effortlessly onto the edge of the table, stepping between my spread legs.
His eyes are olive green, dilated, watching me with a predator's satisfaction. My skirt is ruined, bunched at my waist. My blouse hangs disheveled and stained with sweat and his scent. My lips are swollen. I know I look like a wreck.
"You're a mess, Counselor," he says softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is surprisingly gentle now, at odds with the violence of his passion moments ago.
I try to summon some dignity, but the effort is useless. "You did this."
"Yeah. I did." He runs his thumbs over my thighs, tracing the marks his grip has left on my skin. "And I'm going to do it again. And again. Until you forget you ever tried to fight me on those permits."
Reality begins to seep back in—the town council, the legal ramifications, the fact that Riley James probablyhasa camera pointed at the driveway right now. "Chase... this complicates things. The arrangement..."
"The arrangement is bullshit," he interrupts, leaning in until our foreheads touched. "You know it. I know it. We can play pretend for the town, Cassandra. We can put on a show for the cameras. But in here? On this mountain?"
He kisses me again, slow and deep, sealing the unspoken contract between us.
"In here," he whispers against my lips, "you're mine. Owned. Marked. Drenched in me."
I look at him—really look at him. The dangerous glint in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the raw power emanating from him. I should run. I should grab mythings, call a cab, and flee back to the safety of my sterile apartment and my law books.
