“Lie back. Hands above your head.”
I do as he says.
“Good girl.”
He climbs between my legs, his palms rough and warm as they glide over my skin—up my calves, along my thighs, tracing reverently over the curve of my waist and the swell of my breasts.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to my stomach. “I could spend hours tasting every inch of you.”
And then he does. He drags his mouth across my skin, worshipping me with kisses, slow licks, gentle grazes of his teeth. Every movement is a promise. Every pause, a test of patience.
“I want you writhing,” he whispers, trailing a kiss between my breasts. “Begging.”
“Babe…I’m alreadybegging,” I murmur. “I need it.”
The vibrator pulses again between my thighs—stronger this time. My back arches on instinct, a helpless gasp leaving my lips. He chuckles, low and rough, like gravel poured over velvet.
“Good,” he says. “I want you desperate for it.”
His hand cups my cheek, grounding me, soft in contrast to the tension building everywhere else. Then he leans in and kisses me again. His mouth is deep and drugging, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my mouth.
I barely hear the rip of the foil packet before he slides the condom on, his body pressing over mine, the weight of him heavy and real.
“Look at me,” he murmurs.
I do.
He lines himself up, slow and steady, holding my gaze as he begins to push inside, and I forget how to breathe.
My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches me open, inch by inch. I’ve never felt so full and so claimed.
“Fuck,” he grits out, voice thick with restraint. “You feel even better than I imagined. So tight.”
“Well, it’s hard not to be tight with how big you are.”
He grins, and his hips roll forward with a measured, intentional control, like he’s savoring every second of sinking into me. When he’s fully seated, buried to the hilt, he stills.
“Keep those eyes on me,” he orders, his voice low and commanding. “I want to see every damn second of you coming undone.”
I nod, trembling. My body clenches around him in answer.
“Yeah. You like that?” he murmurs. “Being split open like the good girl you are?”
My breath catches. I don’t recognize the noise that escapes me, half-moan, half-whimper.
“Oh, youdolike that,” he says darkly, and then he starts to move.
Gently at first, and then his thrusts are deep, dragging pleasure across every inch of me. His body pins mine, one handgripping my wrist above my head while the other slides beneath my lower back, angling me just how he wants.
He pushes all the way in, slow and brutal, like he owns me. And maybe, for tonight, he does.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice wrecked. “Cassie, you were made for my cock.”
My back arches, hands scrabblingat his shoulders for something to hold on to. He doesn’t give it.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, smirking down at me. “All stretched out, moaning like you’re in heat. You like being taken, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I mewl out.
