I thread my fingers around the back of his neck. His forehead rests on mine as he slides his cock through my folds. Each sweep breaks away another layer of my resolve. Little by little. He snaps me open.
I groan when he nuzzles my neck.All he ever wants is to control me.
My mouth slackens with a groan when he pierces my entrance. It doesn’t take much for him to get me soaked. One look. A light touch. A simple command. That’s it.
And I hate how much I love it.
He sinks deeper and plants his hands on either side of my head. The only thing keeping me up is my grip on his neck and his cock. It’s up to me to stay attached to him—and he knows that. He knows how much I want this.
A sly grin appears on his lips. “Open your legs.”
Trembling, I widen my thighs.
“More,” he commands.
Irritation threads through my body as my legs part. Just from one firm demand. How can my body betray me like this? How can I keep giving in to him?
He buries himself to the hilt.
The whimper I release quickly grows to a sustained cry of pleasure. How can Inotgive in to him when it feels this good?
My brows knit together as he slides out. He drags each inch of his shaft with an aching slowness that makes me want to whine. I bite my lower lip to keep from protesting—and to keep from begging. God forbid I start begging again.
He would like that too much.
My back aches and my shoulders are sore, but I hardly have space to adjust. It’s just him pinning me to the door with his hips, using the barest of efforts. Just like his voice holds sway over me, so does his body. Why does it take so little to get so much out of me? Am I desperate?
Am I losing control?
His returning thrust breaks me out of my thoughts. I clutch his shoulders and angle my pussy toward him, unable to stay still yet unable to move. He drills me with vivid pumps that shake me to my core, ripping away whatever wall I’ve put up to keep him out.
Why do I bother?
He tears through them every time.
Sometimes I wonder whether I do it on purpose. Am I challenging him because it turns me on? Do I defy him to get him to put me in place?
He grabs my chin. “Look at me.”
My eyes pop open. My chest heaves. I’m utterly at his mercy, tingling with that familiar spark of electricity that accompanies my orgasms. His green eyes burn like evergreen glaciers, slicing right down to the darkest parts of me. Maybe he’s the light, and I’m the one in the shadows.
Or maybe I’m just hoping that he won’t choose another light.
When I leave, he won’t have time to replace me. I suck his thumb into my mouth, watching surrender splash across his features. I’ve got control again. I’m not letting go.He only cares about the Bratva.
He bows toward me as his thrusts double. “Touch yourself.”
Pressure expands in my core. Once again, I’m lost to his voice as my body obeys him. His eyes follow my hand as it slides down my body. The moment my fingers greet my swollen bud, he yanks his fingers from my mouth and steals my lips. His kiss burns me. It speaks of his despair. It’s the worst thing I could feel right now—and the best thing, too.
Knowing he’s nothing without me satisfies a deep craving to hurt him.
And it also devastates me to think he’ll be broken once I walk out the door.
His tongue duels with mine as his breathing labors. I rub circles into my clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. Every time I think I’m about to crest, I fall back down, agitation swelling in me like a balloon at each failed eruption.
I cup his face, forcing him to break the kiss. When he looks into my eyes, everything else blurs. A howl echoes somewhere in the background. The world melts. My walls fall. I’m cold. I’m hot.
And then I’m wide open.