“Yes,” I admit as a gasp.
He spins me around, pinning me back against the wall with his body. Pupils blown, his eyes are black with desire, jaw tight.
“You want to be claimed?” His fingers are back working between my legs.
“Oh, god,” I whimper, already so close to the edge. “Yes.”
His thrusts slow to an agonizing pace. “Then your wish is my command.”
With a growl, he withdraws his fingers, grips my wrists and pins them above my head.
Using his other hand, he unbuttons my jeans, tugging them down with my panties until they’re tangled around my knees.
The cool air hits my exposed skin, making me gasp.
“Shhh.” He rests his forehead against mine, breath hot on my face. “You lost the game, remember? Now you have to do whatever I want.”
He releases my wrists, only to grip my waist and lift me, carrying me to the bed. He tosses me down on the mattress, then flips me onto my stomach.
“On your knees,” he commands, and I instantly obey, heart hammering against my ribs as he pulls my jeans and panties off and tosses them to the floor.
“Is this what you wanted when you wrote those words?” he asks, his voice a dangerous rumble as he runs his hands down my back. “For me to lose control?”
“Yes,” I groan, pressing my face into the mattress.
“You think you can control me?” His voice is a dangerous rumble as the blunt head of his cock nudges my entrance. “You think you can write my feelings, my actions? How do I know my actions have been mine? Have you been controlling me this whole time?”
“No,” I gasp, desperate for him to fill me. “I would never do that. I’m sorry.”
His palm connects with my ass in a sharp slap, making me yelp. “Not yet, you’re not.” And with that, he slams into me, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.
I cry out as the sensation of being filled so completely overwhelms all my senses. He doesn’t even give me time to adjust, just sets a punishing pace that has me clawing at the sheets.
“This is what happens,” he grunts, one hand gripping my hip while the other coils in my hair, yanking my head back. “When you play with fire.”
Each thrust drives me closer to the edge, the delicious friction building so fast I barely have time to breathe. His fingers dig into my hip hard enough to leave bruises, marking me as his.
“Promise me you won’t ever do that again,” he demands, his pace relentless.
His thrusts are hard and deep, each one driving me further up the bed until I have to brace myself against the headboard, forcing harsh breaths and desperate moans from my throat.
“I won’t,” I groan, the pressure building to an unbearable level. “I promise.”
“Damn right you won’t.” His hand tightens in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my back and change the angle of his thrusts, making the new position hit a spot inside me that makes my toes curl.
“Fuuuck. You feel so fucking good.”
“Ryder, please,” I beg, not even sure what I’m asking for at this point.
“Please what?” He slows his pace, drawing out each thrust until I’m whimpering.
“Harder,” I gasp. “Fuck me harder.”
He immediately complies, hips snapping against my ass as his fingers dig into my hips. Just the thought of wearing his fingerprints on my skin sends a fresh wave of heat through my body.
“You’re such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”
The moan that bursts from my lips is barely recognizable.
