Page 87 of Newly Tied

It hurt for several oversensitized moments, he was thick and long, but he waited, letting my muscles stretch around him and then tighten.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” I husked.

“Then?” he prodded, not angry, but it was a near thing as he began to move.

“What do you need me to be clear about?” I managed to get out as his hand slipped around my cock, stroking sensuously, languorously, providing a counterpoint to the club filling my channel, sliding forward and back, the angle of his entry, the burn, and his powerful strokes almost more than I could bear.

“The fact that I’m a very possessive man,” he confirmed smugly as my muscles, which had fought and resisted his intrusion, loosened enough so I was impaled, suddenly, his dick completely buried in my ass.

I cried out but he didn’t check if he hurt me, didn’t ask stupid questions because he knew better. Knew me. This man would never hurt me in any way, and most of all, he was settling something deep in my chest with his words.

“You’re mine,” he said low and guttural as he wrapped me in his arms, all of him held inside my body as I let myself relax into his care. “I finally figured out who I needed to put my life in balance. My career, my family, my goals, all of it was on track, only one thing missing.”

One hand moved to my throat, tipping my head back, gripping tight, as the other slid first to my abdomen, pressing me back just that much further on his cock, and then taking me in hand, stroking from balls to head.

“You were missing. My best friend, in my life, living with me, always at my side, and no one else gets any part of you anymore. Ever.”

To others, it might seem insane, his words too much, scary even, but this was brand-new between us. Five years from now, even one year from now, he’d be certain of us, secure in our lives wrapped around one another, in our commitment to each other, and all this would be remembered bluster. Now, his actions, his words, let me know that along with protecting me, keeping me safe while we were out there in the world, and sane, never letting my memories, my demons strip me of my power or integrity, he would be more. Because now, he would be my home, and most of all, let me know I was loved. Let me know I was his.

I belonged to Lang and he had always, I realized, treated me like I did, but now he was showing me by taking absolute possession of my body.

When he slid free, I gasped at how fast it was but barely had enough time to process before I was walked a few feet to the kitchen and bent across the table, arms stretched out so I could reach the opposite side and hold on.

He rammed back inside me, having added a bit more lube to his dick, enough to make the thrust easy, the stroke a glide that immediately became a new pounding, ceaseless rhythm, in and out as he showed me that I was unquestionably, his.

“Only I get to kiss you, fuck you, hold you, and make you scream,” he huffed out, his voice thick and gruff as he pegged my gland, and I did, in fact, roar his name.

He felt so good, and I was so full, the pistoning deep and fast, driving to my core with each thrust, the table taking my weight and his rutting without a shift or a sound.

“This table is coming with you to my house,” he announced, and I smiled, as I’d been thinking the same thing. “Now get up on it because I want to see you come apart.”

Again he withdrew, and I scrambled onto my table, and lay down so I was staring up at him. Immediately, he took hold of my thighs, lifting them in the air as he plunged back inside my hole, enjoying me splayed out for him if his gasp was any indication.

“Grab your dick and make yourself come. I want to see.”

My strokes were sloppy, without a discernible pattern, but it was impossible to create my own rhythm with him hammering into me and the splintering electric shocks that was causing. “Don’t stop,” I begged, not caring that I sounded needy and desperate, only the sizzling heat rolling through my body, slithering from my tightened balls to the base of my spine, of any real consideration.

“You feel so good,” he husked, his hands behind my knees, holding tight as he stared down into my eyes. “I’ve decided I want to do this for the rest of my life.”

“Sex makes people…stupid,” I murmured, feeling my muscles clutching around him. “Please don’t stop, just—Lang!”

“Please what?” His voice was brittle, on edge.

But I was done. There were no more words.

“Please what?” he demanded, louder, his eyes narrowed to slits of teak.

“I wanna be yours,” I barely got out as my orgasm came roiling through me.

“You already are,” he swore, losing himself in the hard pounding, spilling inside my body, both of us mindless in our release.

It took me several minutes to realize my legs were wrapped around his hips and he was bent over, lying on me, cheek pressed to my pectoral.

“I can hear your heart,” he whispered.

I had no doubt, as it was trying to beat itself out of my chest.