Page 30 of Brick’s Anchor

He slows down. Pulls his fingers out. "I want to fuck you."

"Please," I hear myself say.

He moves fast. Sits up and strips his shirt off in one motion. I do the same, pulling the borrowed shirt over my head, unhooking the sports bra. He stares at my breasts like he's never seen anything more perfect.

Then he's pulling my pants and panties down, tossing them aside. Getting between my legs, his cock nudging against my wet entrance. Teasing. Taunting.

"Please," I say again. "Put it inside."

He does.

He's so fucking big, stretching me, filling me completely. I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to move. Slow at first, letting me adjust to his size, then faster. Harder.

"Fuck," I moan. "Brick—"

"I know," he says, his voice strained. He grabs my hips, pulling me harder against each thrust. "You feel so fucking good."

He thrusts into me and I meet him stroke for stroke. No pretense. No performance. Just two people fucking because they want to, because it feels good, because tomorrow might change everything and tonight is all we have.

His hands grip my thighs, pushing them wider, opening me up more. The angle changes and he hits something deep inside that makes me grip the sheets.

"There," I gasp. "Right there—"

He keeps hitting that spot. Over and over. Relentless. His pace increases, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with our combined moans. I can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly.

"You're gonna come for me," he says. Not a question. A statement. "I can feel you getting tighter."

"Yes, fuck, yes—"

He pounds into me harder, faster, chasing my orgasm like it's his mission. His grip on my thighs is bruising and I love it. Love the marks he'll leave. Love the evidence that this happened, that I chose this.

I come with a scream that I barely recognize as my own voice. My pussy clenches around his cock, pulsing, dragging him deeper. He fucks me through it, prolonging it, making it last until I'm shaking and gasping and completely wrecked.

But he doesn't stop.

He pulls out and I whimper at the loss. Then his hands are on my hips, flipping me over onto my stomach.

"On your knees," he orders.

I obey. Get on my hands and knees, ass in the air, presenting myself to him. I hear him groan behind me.

"Fuck, look at you," he says. His hand runs down my spine, over the curve of my ass. "So fucking perfect."

Then he's pushing back inside. He fills me completely and I moan into the pillows. He starts fucking me from behind. Harder. Faster. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he pounds into me. Each thrust drives me forward, makes me grab the sides of the pillow as I scream into it.

"Take it," he grunts. "Take all of it."

I do. I take everything he gives me. The brutal pace, the depth, the way he owns my body completely in this moment. One of his hands moves to my hair, gripping it, pulling my head back. Not painfully. Just possessively.

"This what you needed?" he asks, his voice rough. "Needed to be fucked like this?"

"Yes—God, yes—"

"Say my name."

"Brick—"

"Louder."