Page 61 of Your Masked Haunting

I huff, crossing my arms, feeling immediately reassured and cherished, like my voice has weight and he really cares about it—something I’ve rarely experienced in all my life. “Fine. But I’m still mad at you.”

His fingers are digging into my hips, somehow holding me in place. With a semi-squat, he lowers my ass against his hardened bulge. A delicious shiver runs through me, a sharp inhale whistling through my teeth.

“You can be mad all you want while you’re riding me, Scaredy-Cat, but I’m not leaving this room until I fuck the forgiveness out of you.” His deep, husky voice is an invisible leash, tethering me to him, and honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

My pussy pulses, fully ready to beg for it if she has to.

Get it together.

My pursed lips part. “You think I have a breaking point? You probably can’t even find it.”

A slow, terrifying laugh sends goose bumps running down my arms.

“Watch me.” He rears his hand back, the knife in his fist. Striking fast, he stabs it into the wall by my head. “So much for these new ones.” Reaching between us, he digs his fingers into the mesh of my tights and rips upward, shredding the material at the seams.

“Oh my God!” I gasp, rising from the force, more in shock at him destroying my tights than the knife he just sank into the wall.

“Whoops.” He rocks back and forth, and I can’t see what he’s doing. “Fuck, I’m already throbbing for you.”

A warm, thick tip slaps against the bare skin of my inner thigh. My head lurches back, a wave of desperation washing through me. God, I need him so fucking badly.

A strong finger finds the center of my panties, hooking into the edge of the lace and tugging them to the side until I’m completely exposed.

Holy shit, I need this man to wreck me.

“Still mad at me?”

He leans forward, his face so close that I see the sparkles in his eyes, turned purple from the light. I inhale as his dick lines up with my center.

I have no words, not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I’m more flustered and turned on than I’ve been in my entire life. Needing this man isn’t a strong enough term. I need our souls physically intertwined.

I nod, and my voice is breathy when I say, “Furious.”

“Good,” he grunts, thrusts, and lowers me down onto him all at once.

The fullness is overwhelming. He stretches me out completely as my ass bounces off his thighs. My arms fly out, and I grab his shoulders to steady myself.

“Oh my God!”

That sexy, gravelly laugh makes my pussy clench around him, and he groans my name. “Mona.”

I’m going to need to record that sometime to loop it on repeat. Because I’m pretty sure that’s what the gates of heaven sound like.

When he bucks his hips, I slide up his length, and he repositions himself, barring an arm around my back, his other hand reaching up and grabbing the knife, yanking it out of the wall.

Oh my God, I’m going to last three fucking seconds because this is absolutely the hottest thing ever.

The blade finds my throat again as he lifts my weight with his arm and shoves me back down on his cock. I feel every inch grinding against my walls, hot and soaking wet.

Dear God, this is insane.

“Still mad?” he groans, and I nod, unable to form a word.

He picks up his pace, moving me up and down his length like a toy. Over and over until my knuckles are white on his shoulders and my thighs are clenched around his torso, my breathing erratic.

“Not yet,” he growls through his teeth, fucking me with abandon. “We’re coming together. You want me to stop, use your safe word.”

I’m a puddle of desperation and desire, my restraint stretched to the absolute limit. “I can’t—I can’t.”