"This is going to hurt."
The words send heat flooding through me.
I push my hips back against him.
He makes a sound. Low. Dangerous.
Then he's inside me.
One thrust. No warning. No preparation.
I cry out. The stretch burns. I'm still sore from this morning and he's so big and it hurts?—
It hurts and I want more.
He pulls my hair harder. My back arches deeper. The angle changes and he sinks even further.
"Fuck." His voice is wrecked. "You're so tight."
I can't respond. Can't think. Can only feel.
He's buried to the hilt. Filling me completely. The pain and pleasure blur together until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
"More," I gasp. "Please."
He pulls out. Slams back in.
I scream.
The sound echoes off the tile. Bounces around the bathroom. Mixes with the running water and his harsh breathing.
"Again," he growls. "Scream for me again."
He fucks me harder.
Each thrust drives me into the wall. My hands slip on the wet tile. My legs shake. His fist in my hair is the only thing keeping me upright.
"Dante—"
"That's it."
He rewards me with a brutal thrust that makes my vision white out.
The pain is exquisite. Sharp and bright and exactly what I need. It cuts through everything else. The fear. The uncertainty. The chaos of the last few days.
There's only this. Only him. Only the way he's taking me apart piece by piece.
"You like this." It's not a question. "You like when it hurts."
"Yes."
His free hand slides around my hip. Down between my legs. His fingers find my clit and press hard.
I jerk against him.
"Don't come yet."
"I can't?—"
