Page 178 of Damsel in Disguise

“Seems like my mouth wasn’t enough for your greedy little pussy,” I murmur, making no move to give her what she wants.

Instead, I drag myself along her slowly, coating every inch with her arousal and teasing her right to the edge.

“Please, Alistair,” she breathes against my lips.

“Be more specific,” I say softly. “Otherwise, I might assume you want me to leave.”

“No,” her voice catches. “I—I need you to fuck me.”

The way she swallowed her pride and forced herself to surrender only makes darkness inside me purr from satisfaction.

“That’s my good little kitty,” I praise and finally slowly push inside her.

A soft moan slips free of her, quickly transforming into a pained gasp as I stretch her inch by inch. She’s so wet that the slide is seemingly effortless.

God. She’s so tight. So perfect for me. I keep going, deeper and deeper, until I’m fully seated inside her.

Then I pull out almost completely before driving back into her in a single hard thrust.

“Alistair—” the gasp rings through the room, sharp with sensation, but she doesn’t try to stop me.

Neither do I hold back.

I drive into her again and again relentlessly, each thrust forcing her body to slide against the sheets. The bed squeaks beneath us in protest—the force of me pounding into her sends ripples through the mattress.

In return, Ariella moans so loud, I momentarily wonder if it’s from pain.

Every time her body tightens around me, a groan tears from my throat. The feeling is unbearably addictive.

Her walls cling to me as though determined to keep me buried inside her. Each squeeze only makes me thrust harder. Fiercer. Rougher.

The intensity draws tears from her eyes.

I lean down and lick them away, savoring the salt on my tongue alongside the sounds of pleasure and pain spilling from her lips.

I’ve never fucked someone looking directly at their face like I’m doing now. And it’s causing something strange to me. Something I don’t quite understand.

With tears slipping down the corners of her eyes, sweat glistening across her forehead, hair tangled around her face, lips swollen and red from kissing, and fresh marks blooming across her skin, she looks so beautiful it physically aches.

I can’t stop staring at her.

Eventually, I force myself to kiss her, pretending it’s only to swallow the moans and muffle the sounds spilling free of her.

The lie fools no one. Least of all me.

The kiss only pushes me closer to the edge.

Without realizing it, my pace quickens.

The room fills with the brutal sound of skin meeting skin, heavy breathing, and the creak of the bed beneath us.

Soon, she starts to fall apart beneath me again.

Her entire body jerks.

The next second, her back tries to arch high off the mattress—stopping only because of the restraints. Lips part around my name in a loud cry as her eyes roll back until only the white remains visible.

The sight punches the air from my lungs.