“Look at that,” he murmured against my ear, his hand fisting in my hair, pulling my head back. “Look at all those people out there. They don’t get to have you. But I do.”
I cried out in response, unable to form words.
“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” he hissed. “So convinced you’re not enough. But I’m going to show you. I’m going to fuck it into you until you see yourself the way I do.”
I heard him spit into his palm, heard the wet sound of him stroking himself, and my body betrayed me—my knees went weak, my pussy flooding with heat.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he commanded. “You’re going to watch.”
He grabbed my hair, forcing my head to the side so I could see us in the window’s reflection: me, bent over, face flushed, tits spilling out of my torn shirt. Him, behind me, rock hard, his cock glistening.
“Look at yourself,” he growled. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are. These tits?” His free hand cupped my breast, squeezing hard enough to make me whimper. “Perfect. These hips?” He slid his hand down and gripped my ass. “Made for me. Every inch of you wasbuiltfor me.”
“Please—”
“Please, what?” He pressed the head of his cock against my wet slit, teasing, not pushing in. “Please fuck you? Or please let you run again?”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know which was true anymore.
I heard the slick sound of him stroking himself. Then came the wet heat of his head nudging against me, sliding, finding my entrance.
Then he slammed into me fully.
A scream tore out of my throat—raw, desperate as he rushed into me fully. He didn’t stop. He pulled out and drove backin, deeper, harder, his hips slapping against my ass, his balls smacking my wet flesh.
“Say my name,” he snarled, driving deeper. “You know how much I love to hear it coming from your lips.”
His hand snaked around my throat, his other hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.
“Fuck, Lo—!” I stopped myself, refusing to give into him.
“So fucking stubborn,” he growled with the first thrust.
“So fuckingsmart.” Another thrust, deeper.
My nails scraped against the tie.
“So fucking gorgeous.” Third. Fourth. A rhythm of possession and worship.
He reached around, grabbed my breast, and pinched my nipple until I cried out. “These tits. I dream about them. I dream about your mouth, your cunt, the way you feel when you come around my cock.”
“I—I can’t?—”
“Yes, you can.” He drove into me harder. “You can take it. You can takeallof me. Because you’re not broken, you’re not weak—you’re the strongest, most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”
Tears streamed down my face. Not from pain, but from the overwhelming, terrifying realization that he saw me, all of me. Even the cracked, ugly parts I tried to hide. And he wanted them anyway.
“That ass,” he groaned, grabbing my cheeks, spreading them, watching himself slide in and out. “I’d kill a man over this ass.”
He entered me again. The glass fogged with my breath. My reflection stared back—hair wild, eyes blown wide, lips swollen from where I’d bitten them.
“Those freckles,” he whispered, “I want to memorize every one. This chin?” He kissed it. “This mouth?” He bit my lower lip, pulled, and released. “All mine.”
“It’s yours,” I gasped.
“Say it again.”
“Yours.”
