Page 129 of Villainous Intent

I sank into her in one long thrust.

She screamed again, but the sound changed halfway through, morphing from pain into a shattered moan as I filled her. She was so fucking tight, clamping down on me like a vice, the shock of the strike making her pussy spasm around my cock.

“That’s it,” I growled, grabbing her hips to hold her in place.

I wanted to pound into her. The animal part of my brain was screaming at me to fuck her hard, to use her like the object she was currently presenting herself as. But I forced myself to slow down. I rolled my hips, grinding against her.

“Feel that? Forget the pain. Focus on my cock.”

She sobbed, pushing back against me, trying to take me deeper.

I collapsed my weight forward, abandoning the leverage of my hips for the intimacy of total contact. I needed to be the only thing she could feel, inside and out.

I wrapped my arms around her, my hands splaying over her stomach, locking her against me. The position restricted me, cutting down the length of my stroke, but I didn’t give a damn. I didn’t need distance. I needed depth. I needed to grind into her, to twist my hips and scour every inch of her cunt until she was sobbing my name.

“Fuck,” I breathed against her neck, the word torn out of me. Every time she gasped, her muscles clamped down on me, a wet, desperate fist trying to milk me.

I buried my face in the curve of her shoulder, biting down on the tender muscle. She whined and it was music to my ears.

“You feel that?” I rolled my hips. “You feel how you’re swallowing me whole?”

She nodded frantically, her head tossing back against my shoulder. Her sweat tasted like salt and fear and something much more addictive. Surrender.

My control was crumbling, turned to dust by the feel of her body against mine. I wasn’t anything but a man starving for the woman he’d been obsessed with for months, years, taking what he finally, finally had.

I could feel myself coming closer to the edge of orgasm with every shallow thrust. The urge to just let go, to pour myself into her without a second thought, was overwhelming. But even now, in the haze of lust, I needed to make her participate in her own ruin.

I slowed the rhythm and her hips bucked in protest. I kept my cock buried, letting her feel exactly how hard I was, how ready I was to break.

I moved my hand down, sliding between her legs to find her clit, slick and swollen. She cried out, her hips jerking, but I held her fast.

“I’m going to come.” I dragged my thumb over her clit, feeling her shudder. “But you have to tell me where.”

I pulled my hips back an inch, then slammed forward, a short, brutal check to remind her who was in charge.

“Tell me, Annie,” I demanded, biting her earlobe. “Do you want me to fill you up? Do you want to keep it inside? Or,” I whispered, sliding my hand to cup the red-marked curve of her ass, “do you want me to pull out and paint this beautiful ass? Do you want to wear it?”

I ground into her again, merciless. “Inside your cunt or on your skin? Choose.”

“Don’t,” she choked out. Her head thrashed against my shoulder, her body straining against the cuffs as if she could leverage herself closer to me, even though I was already buried to the hilt. “Don’t pull out. Please⁠—“

Desperation looked good on her.

“Please what?” I growled, holding myself still and denying her. My own body was screaming at me to move, my cock throbbing with a pressure that demanded release, but I needed to hear her beg. I needed her to verbalize her own corruption. “Finish the sentence, Annie. Tell me exactly what you need.”

“Inside,” she sobbed, her hips bucking, trying to force me to move. “Come inside me. Don’t stop. Just don’t stop.”

I pulled back and slammed my hips forward, bottoming out deep inside her. She screamed and her cunt clamped down on me as I stopped holding back and fucked her hard.

I reached down between her legs, to find her clit again, just waiting to be tormented.

The effect was instantaneous. Her back arched so violently I thought she might actually snap the leather restraints.

“That’s it.” I watched the way her skin flushed, the sweat beading along her spine.

She was unraveling fast. I could feel the tension ratcheting up in her muscles, the way her breathing turned into jagged, panic-stricken gasps. She was close to the edge, terrified of falling and desperate to jump.

“Cipher,” she pleaded, her voice broken. “Please, I can’t—it’s too much⁠—“