He’s relentless now. Brutal. Every thrust punishing, possessive, driving the memory of my invented lover out of my head with pure sensation.
“Did he feel like this?” he demands. “Did he fill you up like I do?”
“No,” I sob. “No one feels like you.”
“That’s right.” He bites down on my neck, hard enough to bruise. “Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.” His voice is ragged. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to taste you. No one else gets to feel you come apart.”
The pleasure is building in a way I don’t recognize. Not the focused intensity of fingers or tongue, but something deeper. A pressure mounting at my core that seems impossible.
“You’re so tight.” He groans against my ear. “So wet. Squeezing my cock like you never want to let go.”
The pressure keeps building. I’m gasping, confused, my body chasing something it’s never caught before.
“That’s it.” He can somehow feel me fluttering around him. “That’s it, Mina. Give it to me. Give me everything.”
My orgasm hits me like a wave. It rips through me, white-hot and devastating, and I’m clenching around him, screaming his name, my whole body arching in his arms. No hands, no help, just his cock inside me, filling me, and I didn’t even know my body could do this.
He fucks me through it, relentless, but then his pace changes and slows. His thrusts become deeper, more deliberate.
He pulls out, and I whimper at the loss.
“I’m not done with you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Not even close.”
He carries me away from the window, as I’m still trembling with aftershocks, and lays me down on the bed. Dove gray cotton, impossibly soft against my oversensitive skin. He followsme down, covering my body with his, and slides back inside me in one smooth thrust.
The fullness makes me gasp. Everything feels heightened now, every nerve ending alive and aching.
He starts to move again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he wants to feel every inch of me. His hand slides down to rest low on my belly, pressing gently.
“I think about this constantly.” His voice has changed too. Still rough with want, but softer now. “Being inside you with nothing between us.”
The real world resurfaces for a moment. He’s not wearing a condom.
“Cristiano. We should—”
“Filling you up.” He rolls his hips, grinding against that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes. “Watching it drip out of you and pushing it back in.”
His hand presses harder against my stomach.
“I think about your belly growing round.” His thumb strokes across my skin, tender and possessive. “My baby inside you. Everyone would know you belong to me.”
“We can’t—” I’m panting, trying to think through the fog of pleasure. “I’m not on birth control.”
For one moment, I think he’s going to pull out. Be sensible. Remember that we’re not teenagers anymore and actions have consequences.
Then his eyes meet mine, and I see something dark and satisfied flicker in their amber depths.
“Good.”
He starts moving again, harder and deeper, like he’s trying to reach my very center.
“Cristiano, stop.” But my legs are wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer even as the words leave my mouth.
“No.” The word is soft, almost tender, even as his hips thrust against mine. “I’m going to come inside you, Mina. I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to let me.”
“This is insane.”
“And if I put a baby in you tonight, you won’t be able to run again.” His voice catches, raw with desperate want.
