Page 115 of Depraved

Her grip on the sheets tightened, but she refused to say anything.

I tugged at her nipple. “I’m serious, Alyx. I might be a bad motherfucker, but right now, this is me trying to be a better man.”

“Why?” Her voice was nothing but a breath. “Why now?”

I brought the tip of my cock to her entrance but kept it there, not moving another inch. “Because for a woman like you, I’m at least willing to fucking try.”

Without warning, Alyx reared back and took all of me inside her. A roar tore from my throat, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of her hips.

“Fuck, Alyx.”

“Yes, Granite,” she breathed, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Ever since I saw you the first time outside my window, I’ve wanted you.”

I pulled back, only to thrust forward again. “Jesus. You are a masochist.” I slammed into her, gripping her hips tighter. She was so fucking wet, so warm from the inside, it was teetering on the edge of losing control. It was making my legs shake.

I hit her deep, right at the center of her core, and she shuddered, fine droplets of perspiration forming all along her spine.

After another hard thrust, she cried out, and I leaned forward with my chest against her back. “I know I’m hurting you, but I can’t stop.”

“Granite—”

“Don’t fucking tell me to stop, Alyx. Don’t tell me to stop because I can’t, and that’s one line I do not want to cross with you.” Harder, faster, deeper I pushed inside her. Her body was like a fucking instrument, and together we were one filthy, dirty, perfect melody.

Alyx let go of the sheets and brought herself up, pressing her back to my chest. Her body was hot, her skin wet and gliding against mine in a rhythm that had us melting into each other.

Her tiny frame fit perfectly against mine, and I could easily envelop her, wrapping my arms tightly around her small waist.

Her hips moved with mine, her arms reaching up and folding around my neck as I breathed against her shoulder—warm, rapid, desperate breaths.

My hand dipped between her legs, my fingertip finding the sensitive, swollen bud. The sweet whimpers that crossed her lips had my self-control hanging on a thread. I couldn’t lose it. Not yet. I needed her to come first. Always first.

I touched, rubbed, and worked her pussy like my life depended on it. And the way she let go, how she embraced the primal need for pleasure, was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. My pretty ballerina girl, riding my cock like she owned it.

Per-fucking-fection.

“Granite,” she whispered. “You need to promise me something.”

I shook my head. “I’m not letting you go, ballerina girl.”

“No. Not that.” Her fingers weaved through my hair, clutching tight. “I need you to promise me⁠—”

I plunged deeper into her, my knees getting weak from crouching. “What is it?”

She pulled at my hair, and I felt her inner walls close in, throbbing around my cock as she came.

I reached for her throat, forcing her head back against my shoulder while wrapping my fingers around her neck. I wanted to watch. I wanted to see the look on her face while she came on my dick.

The glow of pink on her cheeks was beautiful, and her lips parted as she let out rapid breaths. With her eyes closed, sweat starting at her temples with strands of hair falling over her face, she was fucking exquisite. Nothing in this entire goddamn world compared to her. Nothing.

I wanted to be with this woman for the rest of my life. My cock would never know another pussy again. Only hers. Just her.

It started at the base of my neck, trickling across my spine, growing in intensity as it made its way down my body. The second it slammed against my groin, shooting through my length to the tip of my cock, my pleasure pulsed deep into her.

Sex had never been so powerful, so disarming for me. My entire body went weak, my legs shaking as my orgasm peaked.

“Promise me, Granite.” Her voice broke through the haze.

“Name it.” I barely had a breath.