Page 25 of Sins of Arrogance

She bucks, and I hold her down with an arm across her pelvis. Not as hard as I want to. Just enough to keep her still while I tongue her un­til she’s pant­ing my name.

“Please, Michael. I can’t…”

“Ye can,” I growl, the words muf­fled against her heat. “You’re go­ing to come all over my mouth, Kara. Give it to me.”

She shat­ters.

One minute she’s beg­ging, the next she’s gone, head thrown back, thighs locked around my head, scream­ing as her pussy pulses against my tongue. Her or­gasm rolls through her in waves, and I keep lick­ing un­til she jerks and tries to pull away.

Too much. Too sen­si­tive. But she tastes too good to stop.

Only when she’s sob­bing my name do I fi­nally let her go.

I rise, shov­ing my pants and briefs down in one mo­tion. My cock springs free, flushed and hard and aching to be in­side her. Kara’s eyes drop to it, and she licks her lips like she’s starv­ing. I al­most come from that look alone.

“Get on your knees,” I rasp. “Hands and knees, baby. Let me see you.”

She doesn’t hes­i­tate.

She turns, pre­sent­ing her­self with the con­fi­dence es­tab­lished in­ti­macy. Ass high, thighs parted. I can see ev­ery­thing – her swollen pussy, her juices, the way her in­ner lips glis­ten in the low light of the bed­room.

My con­trol slips.

I grip her hips tight enough to make her gasp and line my­self up. I should go slow. Should let her ad­just.

I don’t.

I shove in, hard and deep, bury­ing ev­ery inch in one sav­age thrust. Only then can I stop. But it nearly fuck­ing kills me.

Kara cries out, arch­ing un­der me. Not in pain. In need.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Just like that. More.”

Her voice is wrecked, her breath catch­ing with ev­ery stroke. I thrust harder, faster, chas­ing the edge like a mad­man. Her ass rip­ples from the im­pact. Her pussy squeezes me so tight I see stars.

“You’re mine,” I grit out. “No one else gets this. No one else gets you like this.”

“Yes. Michael. Yes, yours…” She slams back against me, match­ing my rhythm.

She wants this. Needs the same filthy, ruth­less plea­sure I do.

I reach around and palm her tits, one hand cup­ping the heavy globe, fin­gers tweak­ing her nip­ple while I keep pound­ing into her.

“Ye drive me in­sane,” I growl into her ear, lean­ing over her. “Ye know that? I think about fuck­ing ya ev­ery time I see you walk across the room.”

“I love it,” she moans. “I love when you lose con­trol.”

She doesn’t know what she’s say­ing.

I never lose con­trol. Not fully. Not with her.

Be­cause if I did, she’d be pinned to this bed, un­able to move while I fucked her un­til she couldn’t breathe.

I slide my hand be­tween her legs and rub her clit as I thrust harder, faster, deeper. She starts to come again, shak­ing and gasp­ing, walls milk­ing me like her body doesn’t want to let me go.

And I don’t go. Not yet.

I slow just enough to drag it out, her pussy still flut­ter­ing around me, still so damn hot and wet it takes ev­ery­thing in me not to give her ev­ery dark, un­holy thing I fan­ta­size about.