You're getting exactly what you wrote about. Every shameful fantasy. Every dark craving you were too afraid to admit.
The thought sends another vicious pulse through my core, my pussy clenching reflexively around his thickness in a way that makes him groan.
"That's it," he growls, fingers digging harder into my hip. "Squeeze my cock. Show me how much you fucking need this."
I do need this.
I need to be split open, and claimed, and fucked so hard I can't think about anything except the overwhelming physical reality of beingused.
Ryan shifts his angle slightly—pulling back farther this time before slamming in with enough force to make the entire table shudder beneath me—and something inside me gives way.
Not breaking. Not tearing.
Just... surrendering.
My body stops fighting the invasion and starts accepting it, accommodating the brutal stretch, welcoming the pain-laced pleasure that's building with each thrust.
And suddenly he's deeper. Impossibly deeper. Buried inside me so completely I can feel him everywhere—pressing against places that make stars explode behind my eyelids, filling me so thoroughly there's no space left for anything exceptthis.
"Fuck yes," he breathes, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. "There you go. Take it all."
I'm moaning—desperate, broken sounds I don't recognize—as he establishes a rhythm. Pulling out until just the thick head remains inside me, then slamming back in with punishing force that makes my entire body jolt against the restraints.
The stirrups keep my legs spread wide no matter how much I tremble. The table holds me perfectly positioned for his use. And I'm helpless to do anything except take what he's giving me.
"Shit," he groans. "Fuck, Scarletta. I'm gonna come, you little fiend. Ten goddamn minutes and I'm at your fucking mercy."
He reaches forward with one hand, fingers spreading wide as they cup the back of my neck. The grip is possessive, demanding, as he hauls me upward off the table—forcing my spine to arch as my entire upper body lifts toward him.
"See?" he demands through gritted teeth. "See what you do to me?"
I do see.
God help me, I seeeverything.
"If I come," he says, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts that match the rhythm of his thrusts, "you come too." His hand releases my neck, fingers sliding up into my hair instead. He winds his fist into the strands—not gently, not carefully—just twisting until my scalp burns and I gasp. "Do you hear me?"
He yanks me closer, my face tilting up to meet his as he leans down. Then his mouth crashes against mine—brutal, consuming—all teeth, and tongue, and desperate hunger. He bites my lower lip hard enough to sting.
"Do youfuckinghear me, little fiend?"
"Yes," I gasp against his mouth. "Yes, I?—"
But the word barely escapes before his hand slides between us—rough, demanding—and his thumb finds my clit.
The pressure is immediate. Perfect. Devastating.
He circles once. Twice.
And Idetonate.
My orgasm hits like a physical blow—ripping through me with such brutal intensity that my entire body locks up around his cock. Every muscle seizing. My pussy clenching so hard around his thickness that he groans into my open mouth.
"Fuck—" Ryan's voice breaks. "Fuck, Scarletta?—"
His rhythm shatters. Three more brutal thrusts—desperate and erratic—then he yanks himself out with a guttural sound that's half curse, half prayer as I slam back against the table.
His hand wraps around his cock—slick with my arousal—and he aims at my stomach as he comes.
