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He starts moving both in my pussy and ass, and I forget everything—my name included.

Right now, I’m just with this man and I need him to claim me as much as he needs to.

I need to wake up in the morning and see every mark he left on my body and feel whole.

“This ass is made for my dick, just like this pussy.” He starts slowly at first, but then his pace picks up. My body jerks off the bed with the power of his thrusts.

My moans cut off over and over again with the force he’s handling me with. That’s it. That’s how it’s supposed to go between us.

I come the hardest I have in recent memory, clenching all around his cock and fingers like he said I would. I scream his name over and over again as if it’s a salvation—or damnation, depending on how you look at it.

He pounds into me harder and faster. The strength of his thrusts fills me with so many feelings, but most of all, I’m delirious and happy—so damn happy he wants me to the point of madness, to the point of losing all sense of control.

“You’re mine,” he grunts. “You always were.”

“Always,” I pant into the mattress.

“Fucking always.” He groans as he slips out of me and hot liquid spills over my ass cheeks and my pussy.

I close my eyes, letting him mark me.

Own me.

After all, I’m Asher’s queen in public and his slut in private.

My eyes try to open, despite the fatigue rearing on my nerve endings.

Wait…what?

Where did that thought come from?

Before I can analyze that, I give in to the exhaustion and fall asleep, bound, marked, and utterly pleased.

She’s fast asleep.

I stand there, watching the streaks of my cum covering her ass cheeks and dripping down her pussy and between her thighs.

She’s still bound and lying on her stomach, her blond strands sticking to the back of her neck with perspiration. Her cheeks are red and her lips part slightly.

Only one word roars inside me:

Mine.

Mine.

Fucking mine.

I’m tempted to let her sleep like that. Worse, I’m tempted to pull up a chair and watch her in that position all night.

Yes, I have a problem when it comes to Reina. Even I admit it.

But she’ll catch a cold with the amount of perspiration sticking to her skin.

With one last glance at her, I head to the bathroom, clean up, and go back to the room with a wet towel.

She has turned onto her side, her bound hands lolling in an awkward position. I unclasp the knot and throw the bra onto the pile of clothes. Reina moans when I stroke my fingers over her reddened wrists.

Fuck me.


Tags: Rina Kent Lies & Truths Romance