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“I need you,” I mutter, my voice rougher than I mean for it to be, hands already sliding down her back, gripping her waist.
My girl smiles against my lips with that wicked, knowing smile and whispers, “Then take me.”
Well, fuck.
That’s all I need. I’m pushing her back against the kitchen island, and spinning her around. Her palms slap the counter, and her hips press back into me. Her body’s so damn responsive, and it drives me fucking wild. The sight of her bent over for me, her round ass in those tight leggings… it’s more than I can handle.
I yank her leggings down to her knees and bunch the fabric from her burnt orange dress up to her waist, my hands roughand needy, and she gasps but doesn’t resist. She never does. She knows this is how I need her, how I crave her.
“You’ve been teasing me all day,” I growl, gripping her hips, positioning myself at her entrance, the head of my cock teasing her slick folds, already swollen and ready for me.
Her breath catches, and she lets out a soft moan, her voice laced with need. “Teasing you, how?”
I slide into her, hard and rough, filling her in one brutal thrust. Her cry of pleasure echoes through the kitchen, her body trembling, already tightening around me like a vice.
But I’m not stopping. Not even close. I grip her hips tighter, my fingers digging into her soft skin as I pull her back onto me, every thrust harder, deeper, faster. Her legs shake, and her nails scratch at the countertop of the island as she struggles to hold herself up.
But that only drives me further.
“Do you want to run now, little nightmare?” I growl, my voice low, dangerous. I lean over her, my hand sliding into her hair, yanking her head back so I can hear every gasp, every moan.
“No,” she gasps, her breath coming in short, ragged moans, but her voice still defiant. “No, I—fuck—I want you.”
A feral grin pulls at my lips, and I tug her head back harder, bending her even lower over the island. “You always want to run, Cara. But not from me. Not really.”
She moans louder as I slam into her again, rough and unrelenting. Her body fights me with every thrust, twitching with overstimulation as I push her to the edge. I free one hand from her hair and slide it around her body and between her legs, finding her clit. It’s swollen and begging for my touch. She jerks beneath me, her body arching as I circle it slowly, teasing her just enough to drive her fucking crazy.
“You’re so fucking wet for me,” I hiss in her ear, my breath hot against her skin. “Your body knows exactly what it wants.Doesn’t it? It’s always wanted me. Craved what only I can give you.”
“Yes,” she moans, her voice high and breathless, her fingers gripping the counter for dear life. “I need it, Rhett. I need you.”
“Then take it,” I growl, slamming into her harder, my hips snapping forward with every brutal thrust. The sound of my body crashing into hers and the wetness of her slick heat fills the kitchen, the smell of sweat and sex mingling with the pumpkin pie cooling on the island.
It’s raw. It’s primal. It’s everything I fucking need.
My girl’s body quakes beneath me, her legs shaking, and her breath coming in sharp, shallow pants. She’s close, so fucking close, I can feel it. I can tell by the way she’s tightening around me, her moans turning desperate and pleading.
But I’m not done with her.
Not yet.
I pull her head back again, forcing her to arch even more; her ass presses against my stomach as I drive into her deeper and harder. The roughness of it makes her scream out. Her body fights it, jerking and trembling, her sensitive clit throbbing under my relentless fingers.
“Tell me who you belong to. Who’s fucking pussy is this?” I demand, my hand tightening around her throat, cutting off her air just enough to make her gasp. “Say it.”
“I-Fuck—I belong to you,” she cries, her voice hoarse, every word ripped from her throat. “It’s your fucking pussy. I belong to you.”
That’s all I need to hear. I slam into her one last time, burying myself as deep as I can, feeling her walls pulse and tighten around me as her body shatters. Her scream rips through the kitchen, her orgasm crashing through her like a wave. Her body convulses beneath me, her legs buckling as she comes apart in my fucking hands.
I smirk. Satisfaction is washing over me, but we’re not done yet.
Her body twitches as she tries to pull away from my touch. Every nerve in her body is oversensitive, but I don’t fucking care. I’m not done.
I don’t stop. I grind into her, fucking her through it, refusing to give her a moment’s rest. “Look at you,” I whisper, my voice dark, teasing. “My little nightmare, always trying to run. But you’re mine now, and I won’t ever let you go.”
Her cries turn to breathless sobs of pleasure, her fingers slipping from the counter as her body sags against me, trembling and spent. But I’m still inside her, still hard, still needing more.
I roughly grab her by the waist, flipping her around in one swift motion. Her leggings are still bunched at her knees. She gasps, her eyes wide with shock, but there’s no time to catch her breath. I lift her onto the island, her bare ass resting along the top of the counter. Her legs spread wide like she’s the main fucking course of this meal, and shit, for me, she’s the only fucking dish I care about.
