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He fists his cock, unceremoniously gripping my hips to tug me to the very edge of the desk.
The second he enters me my body erupts in tremors. He, however, lets out a growl that can only be described as feral.
“Fucking hell, Hannah,” he grits, the moment he pushes inside me. His head falls back, his eyes clenched and he groans, a deep, animalistic sound that settles right between my legs, even if it feels like he’s splitting me in half. “So fucking tight, baby.”
I’ve never been calledbabybefore. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t escape the way my heart flutters at the way he grounds it out. Like he has no choice. Like he needs to say it.
“It’s too big,” I gasp, the pain of taking him too much and I shake my head, my nails digging into his shoulders as my body struggles to adjust to him. I think it would be more comfortable fucking a tree at this point. Or a light post.
“You can take it.” He moves slow, only pushing in an inch before pulling back to surge forward again. Tremors movethrough him, his teeth clenched so hard I worry they’ll crack. Little by little, he fills me until I feel like, surely, he’ll break me. “You feel how wet you are, soaking my cock?”
Wetness drips down my leg and I want to be embarrassed, but with the way he fills me, I can’t think of anything but him.
“You pussy begs for me, Hannah.”
Fucking traitorous bitch.
Despite his size, my body blossoms at the rough sound of his voice and the way his hands shake on my hips. He’s trembling . . . a man on the brink of his control, but he’s holding back so he doesn’t hurt me.
It’s oddly touching, even as he does the dirtiest things to me.
Reaching under me, he lifts me, my breasts pressing against his chest as he carries me to the old armchair in the corner of the room. He deposits me on his lap and I straddle him. I reach between us, taking him in my fist and aligning him with my entrance. I allow myself to slip down slowly, filling myself with him with a whimper and a prayer.
“Fuck, I should have known you’d be fucking perfect,” he grinds out, his fingers tightening on my hips until I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“Careful,” I muse, my voice breathier than usual as his groin grinds against my clit. “You keep saying such sweet things to me, I might get the wrong idea.”
The slap to my ass is not something I was prepared for.
“What’s the matter?” he purrs when I yelp from the sudden bite of pain. Still . . . the sting morphs completely, liquefying into something else. Something I never thought I would enjoy.
“You are such an asshole,” I grit, though it doesn’t stop me from moaning when the next one hits.
“And it turns you on. Ride my cock.”
He does it again and heat floods my body, my arousal slipping down my inner thigh. He curses under his breath, gripping my hips and pulling me down the rest of the way on his length.
I gasp from the intrusion, but I can feel my body bending to him, even as he damns my soul with each thrust of his cock inside me.
“Fuck, Mason . . . “ He uses my hips to move me over him, thrusting into me until the sounds of our bodies moving together fill the room. It’s both the most erotic and most disturbing sound I’ve ever heard.
“I’m going to ruin you, little doe. This tight little cunt was made for my cock and after I’m done, you won’t be able to come without me.”
With what he’s doing to me, I actually believe him.
Impossibly, my body relaxes, greedily sucking him in until I’m rocking my hips to meet his thrusts. His groin grinds against my clit, drawing a whimper from my lips. It’s too much. It’s all too much, but if he stopped, I’m afraid they would have to commit me.
He shudders, rolling his neck as he moves me over him. I bury my face in his shoulder, my nails gripping his shoulders so hard, I fear I might leave marks.
Good. Maybe he can think about those the next time he’s pissed off at me.
“Harder,” I dare, knowing I’m playing with fire.
“Hannah,” he warns, his fingers flexing on my hips.
“I want more,” I breathe, leaning forward to press my lips to his. He nips my bottom lip between his teeth with a groan and his hand snaps to my throat, his fingers tensing and robbing me of air.
He runs his tongue over his teeth, sweat dotting his brow. “Are you adjusted?”
