There was a power in what he was doing, my required submission not only expected but almost anticipated. He was reveling in how he was unraveling me, also controlling my moments of satisfaction.
As much as I wanted to defy him, I found myself pushing back against his savage thrusts, smiling every time skin slapped against skin. That was a truly satisfying moment.
He cracked his hand against my bottom several times, chuckling in a dark and dangerous way.
Another one of his promises made that this thing we were doing, this incredible yet somewhat forbidden tryst would happen again.
And again.
Whenever he determined it necessary.
I bit back a cry, cinching my eyes closed as he continued fucking me. Four additional and even harder cracks of his palm sent radiant heat across my bottom and down my legs.
I’d be marked for days, something I could stare at in the mirror. The way he manipulated my body was artful, every smack and every plunge masterful.
My core throbbed, the nirvana from my orgasms still electrifying.
He wasn’t ready for this to be over, leaning over and nuzzling against my neck. The slip of his tongue into the shell of my ear brought another wave of tremors. His hot breath was the cause of every moan and when he bit my shoulder, I let out a stark, intense wail.
Every sound I made seemed to ignite him.
He twisted his hand around my hair, holding me in place with my face forward. There was something quite sinful about the position with no mistake of who was in charge.
And who I belonged to.
“So wet, Palomino Girl. You’ve soaked my cock.”
What was I supposed to say to that? Agree? Disagree? I did nothing more than bite down on my lower lip, nicking my tender flesh until I tasted blood.
Now, with his strokes long and steady, even rougher than before, I clawed the bedding, fighting to keep some sense of myself while he tried to fuck it out of me. He was right in that I was sweaty and sore. Memories of the delicious sex would linger long after the event was over.
He gripped my hips with one hand, yanking back my head with the other. While the pain was nothing in comparison to what I’d felt with the spanking, I was caught off guard anyway.
“Tell me I’m the only man for you.” His demand held nothing but possessiveness.
In my usual state of defiance, I laughed.
That brought another smack to my bottom. He wasn’t joking around.
“Tell me.” He pounded into me, rocking us both until the headboard slammed against the wall.
“No.”
Another brutal crack of his hand.
Another yelp.
Even more savage strokes. My pussy was drenched, so sore and with juice trickling down the insides of both thighs.
His laugh was positively demonic. “Tell. Me.”
There was something so cathartic about letting go around him, which was what he’d wanted.
Which was exactly what he’d demanded from the onset. And in the craziness of the moment, the way he was fucking me as if nothing else mattered. As if I was the only woman for him, I wanted nothing more than to be his.
Not just for now.
Not just for this week.
