Page 32 of Wraith’s Promise

He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against mine, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The bed frame creaks but neither of us cares. My hands scrabble at his back, nails digging into muscle, probably leaving marks.

"That's it," Dean pants. "Take my cock. Take everything I'm giving you."

Beads of sweat form on his forehead and start dripping down onto my face, my neck, my chest where my breasts bounce with each thrust. I reach up and unhook my bra with shaking hands, toss it aside, and immediately grab my own breasts, squeezing them, pinching my nipples.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," Dean says, eyes locked on my hands. "Play with your tits while I fuck you. Show me how good it feels."

I comply, rolling my nipples between my fingers, moaning at the dual sensation of his cock pounding into me and my own hands on my breasts.

"Harder," I beg. "Please, Dean, fuck me harder."

He complies immediately, shifting the angle of his hips to drive even deeper.

"Right there!" I cry out, too loud, definitely too loud, but I can't help it. "Oh god, right there, don't stop—"

"Never stopping," Dean promises. "Going to fuck you until you can't remember anyone else, until the only name you know is mine."

His hand comes up to cover my mouth, muffling my cries. "Quiet, baby. Don't want to wake Mariah. Can you be quiet for me while I pound this perfect pussy?"

I nod frantically, biting my lip, trying to stifle the sounds pouring out of me.

"Good girl," Dean praises, and the words send another spike of arousal through me. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well, letting me use this body however I want."

He pounds into me relentlessly, each thrust making my whole body shake. I'm so wet I can hear it: slick sounds filling the room along with our harsh breathing and the creaking of the bed.

"Turn over," Dean says suddenly, pulling out. "On your hands and knees. I need to see that ass arched again."

I scramble to obey, flipping onto my stomach then up onto my hands and knees, back arched the way I know makes my ass look incredible. My panties are still pulled to the side, soaked through and clinging to my skin.

"Fuck," Dean breathes behind me. "Look at you. So fucking perfect."

His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and then he's lining himself up and sliding back inside. I drop down to my elbows, pressing my face into the mattress to muffle my moans.

"That's it," Dean grunts, starting to move. "Take it. Take every fucking inch."

He fucks me hard and fast, no gentleness now, just raw need and possession. One hand slides up my back, pushing between my shoulder blades, forcing my chest down to the mattress while my ass stays up.

The new position changes everything. He's so deep now I swear I can feel him in my stomach, feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he drives into me over and over.

"You're so tight like this," Dean says, voice rough with pleasure. "Squeezing my cock so good. You like being fucked from behind, baby? Like me using you like this?"

"Yes!" I sob into the mattress. "God yes, I love it, love feeling you so deep—"

His other hand comes down on my ass in a sharp smack that makes me jolt and clench around him. "Quiet," he reminds me, but there's amusement in his voice.

He spanks me again, harder this time, and I bite the sheets to keep from screaming. The sting mixes with the pleasure until I can't tell them apart, everything blending into an overwhelming sensation.

"You're taking me so well," Dean says, breathless now, rhythm starting to falter. "Better than I ever imagined. Better than my fantasies."

"You fantasized about this?" I manage between gasps.

"Since the moment you showed up on my porch." Another hard thrust. "Wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter this morning. Wanted to fuck you against the wall. Wanted to make you mine in every way possible."

"I'm yours," I remind him. "Already yours, Dean. Take what's yours."

He groans and his pace becomes brutal, animalistic, both hands gripping my hips so hard I know I'll have fingerprint bruises tomorrow. I'm moaning continuously now into the mattress, past caring about noise, about anything except the feeling of him claiming me.

"I'm close," Dean warns, voice strained. "Fuck, Quinn, I'm so close—"