“I wanted you.” The sweet truth on my lips feels as deliciously forbidden as we are. It’s like touching fire, knowing you’ll get burned but doing it anyway because you need to feel human.
The truth fractures the tenderness in his expression, replacing it with a dark desire which fuels my own. “Then I’m not sorry, my Valkyrie.”
“I know.”And neither am I.
He releases my face and grabs my hips, making me tighten my leg around him. I grab his thick shoulders, running my fingers over his muscles and tattoos, taking the pain as he inches deeper into me.
Then, with one hard thrust, he plunges his cock so deep into me I see stars. Pain pierces through me as he thrusts harder, faster, rougher, stretching my body to take him.
I moan, tilting my neck back, my emotions confused and as conflicted as I have been since I met this man. Pleasure feels like pain, and pain like pleasure.
Then it’s all the same thing and it feels good. God, he feels good.
My pussy spasms around his punishing length, and he increases his pace.
Every thrust of his cock pumps pleasure into me from head to toe and I’m utterly lost in the sensation. My head is reeling, my skin ablaze, my soul dizzy with a potent cocktail of desire.
My fingers dig into his shoulders, my nails breaking the skin, feeling blood seep through the tautness. But he doesn’t notice and I’m so lost in the mad rhythm of our bodies slapping together, I can’t think past the explosions of pleasure detonating through me.
I moan again, louder this time, and that’s when he truly starts to fuck me. I come instantly, my orgasm burning through me like fire racing over gasoline.
His hard body hammers into my passage, lifting me higher and higher with each relentless thrust.
I arch my back, pressing my breasts into his chest, and he catches my face again so he can kiss me. This kiss is savage and unlike any other we’ve shared.
His mouth devours my lips while his cock does the same to my pussy, and time lulls us into thinking it’s standing still. Only for us. Only for this moment when we’re feasting on each other without restraint.
Lorelai told me to think of the man and take the mess away. I realize now I was always doing that.
Desmier pulls away from my lips but keeps hold of my face, and his expression becomes that of the possessive man who followed me in here.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands, his voice dark and demanding.
“I’m yours.”
He leans close to my ear. “Remember that when I make you scream.”
His words of warning shift the mood, giving me the only heads-up. When he returns to my lips, kissing me rougher than before, it’s like he’s the merciless Desmier I’ve grown to know.
He picks me up, keeping his cock buried inside me as he lifts me off the ground, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips. Then it’s like we both go crazy and whatever madness that has possessed us takes full control over our bodies.
We crash into a tall vase when he carries me over to the table, and it falls to the marble floor, smashing. The plates that were on the table join it, shattering on impact and joining the sexy sounds of my moans and his deep masculine groans.
He sets me on the table and fucks me into the wood. All I can do to take the impact is rest on my elbows and dig my fingers into the surface.
Desmier fucks me faster, showing no mercy as he drives me to orgasm while exerting his dominance.
He fucks me like he still wants to hate me, and like he wants to break every piece of my body and put it back together again, simply because he can. And I love it.
I love it the way an addict loves their favorite drug, and he’s my favorite mistake.
He fucks me like there is only me and only him, and whatever vendetta exists between him and my father is exactly that.
The mad rhythm makes me climax again and as I throw my head back, crying out from the wicked thrill, I remember that I told him I was his, and I feel like he owns me.
My body is spent and claimed, but he’s not finished with me yet.
He pauses his wild thrusts, pulling out of me so he can lift me off the table and bend me over it.