My eyes widen when he thrusts his hips forward and his cock hits the back of my throat.
My gag reflex shoots up, and I cease to breathe. I slap both my hands on his thighs trying to push him away.
Using his fist in my hair, he pulls almost completely out. I barely get a breath before he slams in again.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Thrust. “And breakable.” Thrust. “And mine.”
I try to keep up with his pace, but it’s impossible.
He literally fucks my mouth like he promised he would.
In and out. Deep and hard.
He buries himself inside my mouth, and then he’s out. I splatter and gasp for air before he does it again and again.
And again.
With every thrust, my body burns. Every time he pulls out, I keep my lips open as if I’m begging for more.
I can’t get enough of him and his taste.
Or maybe I can’t get enough of the intense way he stares down at me.
It’s like he really wants to break me, but at the same time, he wants to keep me.
For the first time since I met Aiden, I see a different side of him. One that I’ve never seen before.
I had to kneel at his feet while he fucks my mouth so I could notice it.
The conflict.
The doubt.
Aiden has always been assertive to the core, but right now? As he plunges in and out of my mouth, he appears on the fence.
About what? I don’t know.
All I know is that I’m most likely the reason behind the conflict.
His grey eyes flick to affection for a second before they darken again. He watches me like he hates me.
This isn’t the blind hate from two years ago. No. This time, he looks like he has no control over the hate.
It cuts me deep and hard. Like it wouldn’t have hurt this much if I were punched in the gut.
What have I done to you?
Tears barge into my eyes. I’m not sure whether it’s due to the lack of air, the way he brutalises my mouth, or the emotional pain slashing me open out of nowhere.
Aiden reaches down a finger and wipes under my eyes. “Shhh.”
He pulls out of me completely without coming. If anything, his cock is harder, the veins throbbing with the need for release.
Aiden clutches me by the shoulders and lifts me in his strong arms. Still disoriented, I stare at the hint of his arrow tattoos. For some reason, the sight of them calms my breathing.
He carries me to the sofa and sits down, manoeuvring me so I’m sitting on his lap, facing him.
Tears still stream down my cheeks as I place both hands on his shoulders.