Page 400 of Primal

“Let’s try anal.”

“You sure?”

I glance over my shoulder. “I trust you.”

He eases out of me. “Payton—”

“I want it. Your cock in my ass.”

His throat works. “Okay. We’ll take our time.”

“I don’t want gentle.”

I want the breaking. Want every crack filled with him, every fractured part stitched together by the weight of us.

A growl rips from his chest. He drags me up, my back flush against his chest, one hand fisting in my hair. His other hand skates down my stomach, between my thighs.

“Gonna prep you first.” He rubs my clit, teeth scraping my shoulder. “Gonna make you drip for it.”

I push back against him. “Kade—”

“Patience, little fox.” He slips two fingers inside my pussy, crooking them just right. “Gonna fuck you here until you’re so wet and used you can’t stand it. Gonna lick you open. And when you’re begging?” He nips my earlobe. “Then I’ll give you my cock.”

I shudder. That spot. He’s found it. His thumb stays on my clit, relentless.

“Look at you,” he rasps. “Taking my fingers so good. Gonna take my tongue next. Then my cock. Gonna ruin you.”

He withdraws. Spreads me wide.

The first lick up my ass steals my breath.

“Fuck,” I gasp into the sheets.

It feels dirty—yet so fucking good. I’d let him do it again just to chase this high. And I need it. Need him. Need to be wrecked so thoroughly that wrong and right blur into something I’ll crave on my deathbed.

Another long, exquisite stripe.

His spit lands hot on my rear entrance. Fingers in my pussy. Thumb on my clit.

My vision whites out at the edges. “Kade—”

A nip that says ‘Mine.’ His tongue spears inside again—and I’m gone.

He works me through it all until I’m sobbing nonsense into the mattress.

“That’s my dirty little fox,” he rasps, turning my face toward him. “Ruined and perfect. All mine.”

His fingers glide past my swollen clit to circle that tight ring of muscle.

“Relax.” His teeth graze my shoulder blade. “Just me.”

One thick finger presses in—claiming space, millimeter by millimeter, until the resistance gives.

My spine arches. My lungs forget how air works.

“Breathe,” he murmurs against my nape. “I’ve got you.”

He works deeper. Through the burn. Until his knuckles nest against me and I’m full in a way that claws past physical.