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The way he’d feel when he sank inside…
I cried out as the head of his cock breached my entrance.
God. I wanted more!
“Quinn,” I breathed. “Con…”
He pushed all the way inside before I could finish.
“Con…” I started to say again, but he pulled back, making me cry out in desperate need.
He pushed back in.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Then he started to grind, and I forgot all about why we would need a condom.
I forgot all about how I knew this would hurt.
I forgot about the way he always ruined me when he left me.
I focused on him.
On the way he was making me feel.
On the sound of our breathing as he fucked me into oblivion.
The doubts. The what ifs. The indecision.
All of it disappeared with each stroke of his hips.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so wet for me, baby. Are you mine?”
Was I his?
I’d never be anyone else’s… but his? I didn’t think so.
I’d never be his again.
“No,” I breathed.
He slammed back inside of me, harder this time.
I saw stars, and my body started to tip precariously close to the edge.
But before I could fall over, he stilled, his hand going to my face as he grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at him.
His blazing hazel green eyes stared into mine as he said, “Are. You. Mine?”
Never.
Not unless he was mine right back.
