“Fuck…” he groans. “This cunt was made for my cock.”
Each rock of his hips drives me forward, my breasts dragging against the sheets, creating a delicious friction against my sensitive nipples. Any remaining pain has melted into a pleasure so intense it borders on unbearable.
His hand slides to the front of my neck, wrapping around my throat. He applies just enough pressure to make my heart hammer under his palm without stealing my air.
“Is this what my sweet girl wanted? To be spanked and fucked bare?”
I can only moan in response. My brain is foggy, too busy screamingyes, too busy craving, too busy loving the way hesays it like he’s both owning me and checking in at the same time.
Sweet girl? I’m not sweet right now. I’m fire, and heat, and ache, and… Oh god, yes, all of it.
He releases my throat, his hand tangling in my hair instead, yanking my head back. The new angle has him driving even deeper.
“So tight, so responsive…fuck, Violet. Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, punctuating the words with a particularly brutal thrust that makes me cry out.
“I’m yours,” I gasp. “Only yours.”
His rhythm falters for just a second before he pulls out abruptly, flipping me over onto my back. I barely catch my breath before he’s on me again, hooking my legs over his shoulders as he drives into me with renewed intensity.
He’s impossibly, gloriously deep, hitting places inside me I didn’t know existed. My hands fly to his chest, not pushing him away but needing something to anchor me as pleasure builds to an almost excruciating peak.
“Violet,” he commands, one hand gripping my jaw and forcing my eyes to his. “You better look at my face when you come on my cock.”
His thumb presses against my bottom lip, pushing into my mouth. I suck it instinctively, tasting salt and skin.
“Come for me,” he growls, his pace becoming punishing. “Now.”
My orgasm crashes through me all at once and everywhere. My back arches, chest heaving, head thrown back, and I can’t stop the sounds that spill out of me. I don’t know if they’re moans, gasps, or broken cries. I’m dizzy, high, completely undone, and I love it. Every snap of muscle, every press of his hands, every demanding drive that’s tearing me apart—my body is screamingyes, yes, yes,and my brain can only cling to one glorious thought.
I am so alive right now.
“Violet,” he groans, his voice breaking. “Fuck.”Thrust. “I’m going to?—”
His entire body goes rigid against mine as he slams into me one final time. I feel each pulse, each shudder as he empties himself inside me, and my own body reacts in kind, trembling around him.
He eventually collapses beside me. For several long moments, we stay like that, both sweat-slicked and spent. He cradles me against his chest, holding me close as our heartbeats gradually slow.
“Goddamn,” he breathes against my hair. “Are you okay?”
I nod against his chest, too blissed out for words. It’s as if my entire body has turned into melted wax—warm and pliant and impossibly satisfied.
His hand glides down my spine, the touch featherlight. “Did I scare you?” he asks, voice tight with concern. “Was that too much?”
I lift my head to look at him, finding his eyes clouded with worry. This fierce man who just claimed me so thoroughly is suddenly uncertain.
“No,” I whisper, reaching up to touch his face. “You didn’t scare me.”
His brow furrows as his fingers gently trace the new marks blooming on my hips. “I lost control,” he mutters.
I press a quick kiss to his chest, feeling that ridiculously fast heartbeat under my lips, and grin against him. “I didn’twantyou to be in control.”
His eyes search mine until it seems he believes me. “Okay,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead before slipping from the bed.
I hear water running in the bathroom, and a moment later, he returns with a warm washcloth. He sits beside me on the bed, his touch impossibly gentle as he cleans between my thighs.
“Turn over,” he directs, and I comply, wincing slightly as my muscles protest.
His breath catches. “Christ, Violet.”
