Page 10 of Accidental Alliance

Her walls flutter and clench around my fingers, getting wetter with every stroke. I add a third finger, stretching her wide, preparing her for my cock, and she shatters hard on my tongue with a sharp cry.

“Elio!” Her thighs tremble violently around my head.

But I don’t stop. I keep nursing her through it, drawing out every pulse and shudder until she’s gasping and whimpering.

I don’t give her time to recover.

I sit back on my heels, licking her taste from my lips.

My cock is aching, heavy and leaking as I shove my pants down just enough to free it. It jerks hard in my fist when I wrap my fingers around the thick length and line myself up at her entrance. In one brutal thrust, I bury myself completely inside her.

She lets out a loud cry.

“Fuck,” I groan. She’s so tight, so hot, so damn wet, clenching around me like she never wants to let go of me.

I start to move, keeping my strokes deep and devastating, rocking the entire bed with every thrust.

I claim her over and over, stretching her wide around my cock, filling her completely until there’s no room left for anything but me.

My hand grips her hip hard enough to leave marks I want her to feel for days after this is over.

The other is braced beside her head as I fuck her with every second of pent-up lust and raw obsession I’ve had for her since the first moment I laid eyes on her over a year ago.

Each time I slam into her, I grind my pelvis against her clit with every stroke.

Her hands move under my shirt and her nails rake down my back, her legs locking tightly around my waist as she meets me thrust for thrust, riding my cock like she owns it.

“This pussy was fucking made for me,” I growl. “Only me. No one else will ever have you like this. Say it.”

“Oh, fuck,” she gasps, her honey-gold eyes glassy with pleasure. “Only yours, Elio…”

I drive into her deeper, the wet sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room along with her broken moans.

When she comes again, her walls pulse and flutter around my cock like a vise.

I follow her over the edge with a savage groan and bury myself as deep as I can go and spill inside her, pulse after pulse, filling her with everything I have.

I roll before I collapse on top of her, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, and drag her close again.

For a few long moments, we lie there in the quiet. Beyond the windows, the city breathes in restless pulses. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails and fades.

She is draped over me like she’s done this a thousand times.

The thought should unsettle me, should raise every instinct that has kept me hard and untouchable all these years. Instead, it sinks into me with a dangerous kind of ease.

One arm is curled loosely around her waist, my hand stroking down the length of her back in slow, possessive passes I do not even bother trying to disguise.

The gesture is mindless now, nearly instinctive.

As if some part of me has already decided she is mine to soothe, mine to keep close, mine to touch until the tension finally drains from her body.

Even now after I have had her, the possessiveness does not ease. If anything, it has simply deepened its claws in me. I should be sated by now, restored to whatever version of control I walked into that banquet hall wearing before she unmade it.

Instead, I feel stripped raw, every nerve inside me still lit up and humming.

Her fingers move across my chest with far more care than a man like me has any right to receive, tracing the scars littered across my skin—old ones first, a thick, pale line near my ribs from a knife slashed across me during a bar brawl when I was seventeen and stupid enough to think rage made me invincible.

The smaller notch below my collarbone is next, a stab wound that should have killed me if the man holding the blade had steadier hands.