Bronx steps closer, killing the space between us. He reaches out and hooks two fingers under my bra strap, tugging just enough to make my breath hitch.
“Got used to me, huh?” His voice is low, gravel-rough. “Funny. I still make your pulse jump like it’s the first time.”
I open my mouth to snap something clever back, but he’s already ushering me forward until my breasts meet the cool glass.
The mirror fogs from my warm breath, and his chest is furnace-hot behind me. He plants one hand beside my head, caging me without touching.
“Have you gotten used to—” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear, “—me coming inside you?”
My thighs clench when his free hand slides lower, his palm skating over my stomach and cupping me through my leggings. I gasp, hips jerking forward into his grip.
He groans against my throat and squeezes.
“Look,” he orders, gripping my chin so our gazes meet in the mirror. “Watch what I do to you.”
The reflection shows how trapped I am.
His massive frame swallows mine from behind, and his biceps flex when he grinds his palm harder.
He yanks my leggings down just farenough for easy access, then he steps back and shoves his shorts to his ankles. He fists his thick cock and strokes it up and down as I watch him in the mirror, my pulse thrumming in my throat.
He moves up behind me, bends me forward so my hands brace on the mirror.
“Eyes on the mirror, princess,” he growls. “Don’t you fucking dare look away.”
Then he parts my thighs, finds my entrance and pushes in, inch by fucking inch.
Our gazes lock when he’s buried deep, then his hand closes around my throat from behind and he kisses my temple.
“I’m a lucky bastard getting to fuck you, princess.”
And before I can whimper, he fucks me hard and fast, each thrust rocking me forward. The hand on my neck moves to my hair and he yanks the braid so my head falls back and all I can see are my breasts bouncing under the bra, his jaw clenched and dark hair draping his forehead in disarray.
“You feel that?” he rasps. “How much you crave your husband’s cock. Say it.”
“I—fuck—your—” The word breaks on a moan as he angles deeper, hitting that spot that makes white sparks burst behind my eyes.
He reaches around, fingers finding my clit, rubbing fast circles while he pounds into me. My legs shake. My hands slide down the glass, and my body jolts with each thrust.
I come screaming his name.
“That’s it…my beautiful little hellcat, coming so hard on my cock.”
My knees give out, but he catches me, arm bandingaround my waist, holding me upright while he chases his own release.
Two more punishing thrusts and he stills, groaning long and low against my neck as he spills inside me, hot and thick.
“Fuck…” he hisses. “Feel how hard you make me come. You own this.”
For a heartbeat we just pant against the mirror, fogging the glass, his forehead pressed to my shoulder.
Then he pulls out, tugs my leggings back up, then fixes himself away in his shorts.
Before I can even find my balance, he scoops me up, one arm under my knees, the other around my back, and carries me toward the showers.
“You’re shaking,” he says, and I am. “That’s because you gave yourself to me. I’ve got you.”
I close my eyes, and that’s when it hits me.
