I’m painting all of him red, and I’m getting drunk on the sight of it while he sinks two and then three fingers inside me in hard, quick thrusts that threaten to make me fly apart before we’ve even gotten started.
“Enough,” I groan, pulling off his fingers so I can drop my hand between us and line his cock up with my ass. Maybe I didn’t let him open me up quite enough, but it doesn’t matter.
I want to feel the burn. I want him to tear me apart just as much as I want to unmake him.
“I want to feel you for days.” I whisper the confession and impale myself on his cock in a quick, downward thrust. A punched-out groan escapes him, and his lashes flutter, but my fingers at his throat bring his attention back to me. “Watch me… fuck, watch us. All I want is to drown in everything you are.”
I start riding him then. There’s nothing tender or sweet about it, there’s just the motion of my hips as I drop down on him over and over again, spearing myself on his thick length until it feels like he really is going to split me in half. From this angle, it feels like he’s in my chest, between my ribs. It feels like he’s fucking me apart. It’s a sharp, vicious parallel to our first time. He wanted me to ride him then because he was afraid of hurting me—I’m riding him now because I want us both to bleed.
“I can feel you everywhere,” I groan. “I’d let you tear me apart if it meant I could always keep you buried inside me. Fuck… you feel so good.”
The praise seems to light him up, because his hips slam into me a little harder than before. Good… I want more of that.
“When you were fighting, all I could think of was how strong you looked. How powerful and dangerous,” I keep on, and his hips seem drawn to follow. “I wanted you to fuck me right there on the ice where everyone could see.”
He throws his head back on the pillow, giving me more of his throat and watching me through the halo of his red lashes.
“I wanted to go out there and mark you up, get on my knees for you. I wanted everyone to see you take me apart, so they’d know all that power, all that strength… it was all mine. Fuck, are you mine?”
Donovan’s nails dig into my hips again, and he nods.
“Fuck yes, Loh. I am.” He gasps the words out around my grip on his throat, and I chase the feeling of that declaration stinging against my skin as I bounce harder.
I want more.
I can feel the orgasm building in my body in little zips of fire racing along my nerve endings. It takes every bit of self-control I have not to follow that feeling into oblivion, but I want Donovan—I want to see him fly apart and crash.
I want to see him come undone for me.
“Mmm, fuck. I need…” I moan, dropping down on him again and tightening my fingers around his throat. “I need you to fill me up. Come for me, Donovan. Lose control like you did on the ice.”
His eyes flare wide, and I feel his throat work as he tries to take a breath. I’m careful where I squeeze, but he isn’t careful at all when his fingers dig into my hips and he starts thrusting up into me hard enough that it knocks the breath from my chest—hard enough that my vision goes hazy as he loses control.
His throat works, his eyes going wide, his hips pistoning until there’s a perfect sheen of sweat along his skin.
It’s right there. I just need to take it.
“Fuck me like you own me, Donovan. Like you want everyone to see it.”
Like everyone could know.
He tries to groan as he thrusts up again—the thundering of his pulse beneath my hand tells me he’s right at the edge, and when I release my hold so he can drag in a deep, shuddery breath and moan my name, I feel him fall apart.
“Loh, fuck…fuck.” It’s a low growl that matches the viciousness I saw on the ice earlier, and he grabs my hips and pounds into me as his body spasms, his control completely gone in the wake of his orgasm. I can feel it in the slick slide of hisbody as he unloads inside me, the way his cock pulses while he fills me up. I can see it in his wide eyes and his thundering heart.
Donovan comes inside me, and I know I’m never going to let anyone else have this. It’s just for him.
“Just for you—fuck,” I moan. “You’re the only one who gets this, Donovan. Just you. I’m just yours.”
“Mine,” he echoes as he completely loses his rhythm and fucks me through his orgasm.
I’m burning when he finally starts to slow, dizzy with how much I need release. I want to follow him, to paint his chest with my cum and collapse against him so we’re both soaked in sweat and blood and pleasure… but I need more.
I need everything.
There’s blood smeared across his lips, and all I can remember is the vision of the sketch I drew of him so long ago…
I need that beneath me. My fingers lift from his throat and I stare in fascination at the red marks they leave behind, the little bites of my nails like ownership on his skin… but I need more.
