I couldn’t help myself. She was my weakness, my downfall. Everything about her was my undoing. I pulled her to me, her scent of vanilla and lavender filling my nose as her very essence filled my soul.

I stared into her green eyes. Her heart was laid bare, though she’d never spoken the words to me. I’d acquired her, but she owned me. “If I’d known I’d fall in love with you.” I kissed her, needing her past all reason.

She opened her mouth, and I slanted over her, punishing her sweet lips with my rough kiss. She was mine. I couldn’t give her up. I needed her raw and wild, rough and passionate. Grabbing a fistful of hair, I pulled her head back and bit her neck like a savage leaving his mark.

She clutched at my shirt. I hated the feel of fabric between us. I needed her satin skin, her hot, wet cunt. I needed to bury myself in her and forget everything else except her taste, her breath, her life.

I pulled my shirt off and yanked her to her feet before shoving her down on the bed. “Strip. Now.”

I unbuckled my belt and slid the leather between my fingers. It spoke to me, told me to punish her. But I couldn’t wait, couldn’t stop myself from having her. Not this time.

She bit her lip, her eyes half-lidded. I kicked my jeans and shorts away as she pulled her pants and her panties off.

“On your back, head on the pillow, and spread your legs wide.” I gripped my shaft until it almost hurt, and stroked slowly as she lay back and spread. Her pink pussy glistened, wetness there for me.

She was perfect, her skin luminous and her breaths coming in shallow pants. I wanted to hurt her, but not just that. I knew she would take some of my pain and turn it into her own pleasure.

“Touch your pussy.”

She kept her eyes on mine as she reached down and slid her fingertips across her slick clit. My cock leaked at the sight and I slowed my strokes, needing to be inside her.

“Tell me who you think about when you touch yourself.”

She swirled her fingers around the tight little nub. I wanted to bite it.

“You,” she breathed.

“Finger yourself. Two fingers.”

She slid her fingers between her folds and sank them inside, her hips rising from the bed as she did it.

I dropped to my knees and moved between her thighs. Her soft moans echoed through my mind until I seethed with need. “What do I do to you?”

She bit her lip and pulsed her fingers in and out. Watching was torture, but I had to feel the sting before the pleasure. She would, too.

“You push me down and take me rough.”

The words were like a lash at my back, driving me closer to her. “What else?”

“Y-you hurt me.” The words were barely a whisper.

The animal that clawed at the inside of my chest howled at her admission. I gripped her wrist and pulled her fingers away. I licked them, savoring her taste.

“Grip the headboard.” I devoured every inch of her skin with my gaze, searing her pale flesh into my memory.

Her hands wrapped around the antique wood, and I ran my palm from her chest to her pussy. I hovered my hand over her heat, never breaking eye contact. Then I drew back and slapped her wet folds.

She moaned and tried to close her legs. I wrenched them apart and slapped her again.


“Fuck, yes. Say it again.” I licked her wetness off my palm and sank two fingers inside her.

“Sin!” She writhed, her back arching, her hips pushing down onto my fingers as I roughly pushed in and out. Her tits shook as I leaned over her, bracing myself with one arm while using the other to finger fuck her.

“This? Do I do this to you in your fantasies, Stella?”

“Sin, please. Don’t stop.”

The heel of my palm slapped into her clit again and again, and I leaned down and pinned one of her hard nipples between my teeth.

She moaned, low and long, and spread her legs even farther. I sped my pace and she froze, her hips seizing as her pussy clamped down on my fingers. I withdrew and slammed my cock into her as she writhed beneath me, her orgasm squeezing me as I started a pounding rhythm.

Her throat; I had to take it. I wrapped my fingers around her neck, her life, and squeezed. I lowered myself to my elbow and gripped her hair so she had nowhere to go, nowhere to look but into my eyes as she rode the wave of her pleasure.

I shoved into her, jarring the bed with how much I needed to mark her as my own. She needed to feel me for days, to wear my bruises on her thighs. She didn’t look away, didn’t try to move her hands from the headboard. Even as I stole her breath and refused to give it back.

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