Page 68 of Depraved

“Breathe,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

Deeply, I inhaled, opening my eyes, and he pushed further.

“Jesus.” His head fell forward, long hair brushing over my skin, caressing my breasts. “I knew your pussy would be tight, but this is just,” he drove in deeper, “this is just…fuck.”

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and I saw the strain on his face. It was agony for him to go so slow. For a man who was hellbent on taking me—whether I succumbed or not—he was torturing himself in order to make it easier for me.

The protector.

The guardian.

I placed my hands on the sides of his face. “Kiss me.” Our eyes searched one another. “Kiss me, and then take everything you want from me.”

My lips were already hungry, wanting to feel his kiss, and I brought his face down. Granite kept still, his lips hovering over mine, as if there was a decision that needed to be made here. A decision that had the power to change both our lives. It was surreal how this started out with a man determined to spread my legs, whether I wanted him to or not, and now ended up being something bigger than either of us could have expected.

With a lot of effort, I managed to move my hips, forcing him inside me a little more, and we both moaned when his mouth slammed against mine. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was a frenzy of lips and tongues as we devoured each other.

The pressure against my inner walls became more and more as his girth stretched me, straining to go in all the way.

Tears pooled at the back of my eyes as the ache spread from between my thighs to the back of my spine. It was a kind of pressure I had never experienced before, and if it wasn’t for my legs being tied, I knew instinct would have had me wanting to close them.

Granite kissed me once more then lifted himself up on his arms. He was shaking, face red and hungry. “Say it.” He didn’t move. “Say…yes.”

This was the part where I gave up fighting. This was the part where I made peace with how fucked-up all of this was, because I realized this was how it had to be. This was him. This was who he was. He wasn’t a romantic Prince Charming who wanted to spend happily ever after with his princess in some far away land. He was Granite, President of the American Street Kings, a ruthless, savage motorcycle club who ruled the underground of New York.

This was my stranger in the dark. The man I’d always wanted.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes.”

Without warning, he thrusted hard and deep, and I cried out as he pushed past the barrier of my virginity. The pain was excruciating, the pressure feeling like it was about to tear me in half. Every muscle ached, my body shuddering as he claimed it.

“Hold on, baby. It will feel good soon. Just hold on.” He gave me no more than two seconds to adjust to him before he reared back, only to drive his cock back inside me.

Another scream ripped from my throat, but he smothered it with his lips, kissing me. He didn’t stop thrusting, but it started to hurt less and less, the pressure turning into an ache that felt…good.

“Jesus Christ, Alyx. This feels…fuck. You feel better than I imagined.”

His arms shook, his muscles quickening, and I found myself loving the fact that he admitted to fantasizing about me. It added fuel to the fire of pleasure burning in my core.

“Lift your ass, baby. Move those pussy walls and suck me in deep.”

I did as he commanded, and my body became greedy, wanting every inch of him inside me. It felt so fucking good, I sank my nails deep into the skin of his back, convinced I tore through flesh.

“That’s it, ballerina girl. Work it. Take it. And get fucking used to it, because I’ll be shoving my cock inside this sweet body of yours every chance I get from here on out.”

Leaning on one arm, he reached between us, his expert fingers finding my clit.

A whimper rolled over my lips, my body shaking and quivering. Every nerve ending was about to explode while Granite kept stretching me to the point where I could no longer distinguish between pain or pleasure.

Burying his face in my neck, Granite moved up and down, in and out, and I slipped my hand down his back to palm his ass.

No matter how wrong I thought this was earlier, now it felt right.

It took one more thrust, and I shattered into nothing but shards of pleasure. My body was no longer mine. It was his, and he forced ecstasy through my bones over and over again.

“That’s it. Point those dainty toes for me, ballerina girl. Come around my cock, and I’ll cream this sweet pussy of yours.”

Harder, faster, completely possessed by the hunt for his own pleasure, he couldn’t keep a steady rhythm anymore. He was lost, just as much as I was.