Page 89 of Big D!ck Energy

“So tight,” he groaned, beginning a slow, relentless rhythm. In and out. He curled his finger, dragging against a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids. “Taking me so well. You were built for me, Davina.”

He added a second finger, stretching me, filling me. My hips bucked, trying to take him deeper, to match his pace, but he held me firm with his other arm, controlling the movement completely.

The pad of his finger found my clit, rubbing in firm, counter-rhythm circles to the deep thrust of his fingers. The dual sensations were too much, and I squeezed my eyes shut as my breath became ragged sobs.

He was everywhere, his scent, his taste, the hard wall of his chest against mine, the masterful skills of his hand.

“I'm going to claim every part of you,” he promised, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. “This sweet pussy is just the start. I'm going to be inside you everywhere. In your mouth. In this perfect ass. I'm going to fill you up until you forget your own name and only know mine.”

Pleasure exploded through me, a blinding, shattering wave that ripped a scream from my throat. My body convulsed around his fingers, as the world dissolved into pure, white-hot sensation. He held me through it, his fingers still working, drawing out every last pulse, every shudder, until I was a trembling, boneless heap against him.

Slowly, gently, he withdrew his hand. He brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes locked on mine, and sucked them clean with a dark, satisfied groan.

“Mine,” he said again, the word final and absolute. He gathered me close, tucking my head under his chin as my body continued to tremble with aftershocks. “All mine. And this is just the beginning, sweetheart. I'm not letting you go.”

The aftershocks still shivered through me, a low hum in my veins, but beneath the tremors, there was a heat building.

His fingers, wet with me, were still at his lips. His eyes were dark with primal satisfaction, but I saw the hunger there too. The taste of my own desire on his skin was a brand, a flag planted deep in my psyche. Mine, he'd said.

But so are you, I thought.

The fire he'd lit in me roared back to life, hotter than before. This wasn't just about surrender anymore. It was about taking. About marking him in return.

My hand, which had been limp against his chest, moved. It slid down the fine wool of his suit jacket, over the rapid beat of his heart, past his belt. My fingers found the cool, polished metal of his buckle.

His breath hitched. A small, sharp intake of air was more telling than any groan. He watched me, his eyes narrowing, his body going perfectly still. A predator observing its mate's next move.

I didn't break eye contact as my fingers worked. The leather strap slid free with a soft shick. The button of his trousers came undone. The zipper's low rasp was obscenely loud in the quiet car.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a graveled warning.

I didn't answer with words. I slid my hand past the waistband of his boxer briefs, feeling him, thick and heavy. He was already so hard for me.

His hand, which had been stroking my hair, stilled as I lowered myself from the seat, my knees finding the carpet of the limo's floor. The position was awkward, cramped, but I made it work, my black dress pooling around me. I looked up at him from between his thighs, my face level with his straining cock.

“Look at me,” I said, echoing his earlier command.

His knuckles were white where they gripped the seat. But his eyes were molten, fixed on mine with ferocious intensity. He nodded once.

I bent my head.

My tongue touched the flushed, velvety head of his cock. A tentative, testing lick. The taste was clean, masculine salt, and underneath it... me.

A full-body shudder rocked him. “Fuck,” he hissed, the word strangled.

I opened my mouth and took him in. Just the head at first, swirling my tongue around the crown, tasting, savoring him. He groaned a raw, helpless sound that vibrated through the space between us.

I took him deeper, my lips stretching, my jaw relaxing. I sank down inch by torturously slow inch until I felt him nudge the back of my throat. My eyes watered, but I held, breathing through my nose, letting my body adjust to the delicious, stretching fullness.

One of his hands came down, his fingers spearing into my hair. Not a gentle caress. A grip. He fisted the strands, not to hurt, but to guide.

“That's it,” he growled, his voice thick and rough. “Take it. Take all of me. That perfect mouth... It's mine, too. I want to feel you choke on it.”

The dirty words, the rough ownership in his touch, sent a fresh flood of heat to my core. I moaned around him, the vibration making him curse and buck his hips. I pulled back, dragging my tongue along his rigid length, then sank down again, faster this time, finding a rhythm.

My world narrowed to the scent of him, the salty-bitter taste on my tongue, the heavy weight of him against my palate, the tightening of his fingers in my hair telling me what he liked. I slid one hand up to cradle the tight, heavy weight of his balls, rolling them gently in my palm. My other hand worked the base of his shaft in time with my mouth.

“God, you look so good like this,” he rasped, his hips beginning a shallow, involuntary thrust. “On your knees for me. Your pretty lips wrapped around my cock. You were made for this. Made to suck me, to take me, to worship me.”