"You've been fighting this for weeks," I tell her, punctuating each word with another slap. "Fighting me. Fighting yourself. Are you tired of fighting yet?"
"Yes." The word comes out as a moan. "Yes, I'm tired—"
Another strike, and she's pressing back against my hand, seeking more. The sight of her—bound and spanked and desperate—is almost more than I can bear.
I shed my trousers and position myself behind her, running the head of my cock through her folds. She whimpers, trying to push back, to take me inside, but I hold her hips still.
"What do you want?" I demand.
"You. I want you."
"Say it properly."
"Please." She's trembling, her voice ragged with need. "Please fuck me, Gabriel. I need—I need—"
I thrust into her in one hard stroke.
She screams into the pillow, her bound hands flexing uselessly behind her back. Her cunt grips me like a vice, so tight and hot and perfect that I have to pause, gritting my teeth against the urge to come immediately.
"Fuck." The word tears out of me. "You feel incredible."
I pull out slowly, savoring the drag of her flesh against mine, then slam back in hard enough to make her scream again. Again and again, each thrust deeper than the last, each one driving us both closer to the edge.
She's completely at my mercy—bound, face down, unable to do anything but take what I give her. The power of it is intoxicating. But more intoxicating still is the way she'sresponding, pushing back to meet my thrusts, moaning my name like a prayer.
I reach forward and grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back. The new angle lets me drive even deeper, hitting a spot that makes her whole body convulse.
"You're mine," I growl in her ear. "Say it."
"I'm yours." The words spill out between gasps. "I'm yours, Gabriel, I'm—"
"Mine to touch. Mine to fuck. Mine to do whatever I want with."
"Yes. Yes. Anything—"
I release her hair and reach around to find her clit, rubbing in tight circles while I continue to pound into her. She's close—I can feel it in the way her walls flutter around me, hear it in the desperate pitch of her moans.
"Come," I command. "Come on my cock like a good girl."
She shatters.
Her orgasm hits her like a wave, her whole body seizing, her cunt clenching so tight around me that I can barely move. She screams my name, thrashing against her restraints, lost in a pleasure so intense it looks almost like pain.
The sight and feel of her coming undone pushes me over the edge. I bury myself as deep as I can go and let go, pulse after pulse of hot seed flooding her womb. The pleasure is blinding, obliterating—a white-hot oblivion that wipes away everything except this moment, this woman, this impossible connection.
When it's over, I collapse beside her, breathing hard. I reach over and unbuckle the belt, freeing her wrists, rubbing thefaint red marks the leather has left behind. She rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling, her chest heaving.
"Are you okay?" I ask, and I'm surprised to find that I mean it. That her answer matters.
"I don't know." She laughs, a slightly hysterical sound. "I don't know what I am."
I pull her against me, fitting her body to mine. She tenses for a moment, then melts into my embrace, her head resting on my chest.
"Stay," I murmur against her hair.
"I shouldn't—"
"Stay."
