Jiya loved his words, loved his admission of weakness over her, loved the way he talked about her body like it had been designed for his individual pleasure. Maybe it had.
You know it has.
She ignored the whispered words in her head because they made her chest twist. Instead, she focused on now. This moment. And in this moment, she wanted that pounding again. Wanted his body driving into her in that frenzy she’d experienced too briefly. She wanted inside, under his skin. Wanted to stand in the rubble of the walls she’d knocked down. Wanted every single facet of him.
She knew just how to get it, too.
Jiya reached up and twisted her fingers in the strands of his hair.
Dropped open her thighs.
“How tight is it, Andrew?”
As if her purring tone made his body react on reflex, he reared back and drove deep. “Ah, Jesus. Tight enough to ruin me forever. So tight my fist probably won’t get me off ever again.”
With her fingers tangled in his hair, she yanked his face down to hers and spoke against his lips. “What do you want to do to it?”
“Please it,” he responded hoarsely. “Please you.”
His answer made her intimate muscles spasm around his flesh. “It’ll please me when you work yourself up into a sweat for me.” One set of fingers disengaged from his hair and trailed down his back, settling on his backside. Lightly grazing him there with her fingernails, making his erection swell inside her. “It’ll please me to see you too out of control to stop.”
He panted against her temple. “Hate to tell you I’m already there.”
She dug her nails into the flesh of his ass. Hard. “Are you?”
“Ahhhh fuck,” he gritted out. “Fuck. Yes.”
“If you’re out of control, show me.”
Jiya could sense his tether fraying, could see it with her own eyes when he draped her legs over his shoulders and folded her in half, bearing down on her with his upper body and entering her in a way that was pornographic. His hips bounced his shaft in and out of her, his lips were peeled back from his teeth, his eyes lustful. Filthy. Smacks of flesh filled the room, growing louder, faster in sequence. And still she knew he was holding back. Trying not to hurt her. Too bad she wanted to be hurt, marked, owned, so she could walk around bearing the scar of Andrew Prince for the rest of her life.
“Harder,” she said in a husky voice. “Faster.”
There. His thickness went justthatmuch deeper and the base of him rubbed against her clit with every savage thrust, every claiming of her body. Her orgasm loomed close, but she didn’t want it to suck her into the void yet. She wanted more. She wanted what he’d threatened. His soul. After all, he already had hers.
“Harder.”
He surged forward and snarled against her mouth. “We didn’t wear a condom, Jiya. If I fuck you any harder, no way I’ll be able to pull out.”
“You will. Harder.”
“Jiya.”
She yanked hard on two fistfuls of his hair and watched bliss rain down on his features. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Again.” Jiya complied and felt his manhood pulsate with renewed intensity inside of her. In hurried, frantic movements, he dropped her legs from his shoulders, pinned them open wide and fell on to her, wrestling her down hard and fucking her.
Fucking her like the world would implode at any moment unless he came.
“You love it,” he rasped. “Yeah, you love my fuck like a dirty little girl. Don’t you?”
He thrust into her so hard, her head ended up hanging off the edge of the bed. Andrew must have thought that unsafe, because he picked Jiya up, turned and threw her down hard in the center of the bed, filling her once again with a shout.
“You don’t open your legs like a nice girl, you slap and claw for what you want, is that right?” Thrust. Thrustthrustthrust. “Are you a feisty little thing, sweetheart? You need this cock shoved in rough to keep you happy?”
“Yes!”
She climaxed around his pumping sex, her thighs hugging his sweaty hips. Without questioning her instinct, she picked up Andrew’s hand and put it on her throat. Looking down at her with a wolfish intensity, he clenched there, and the power of her orgasm doubled. She could feel the walls of her femininity milking him. Watched him travel to a place where he could withstand the pleasure no more—and he roared into her neck, a violent wave passing through his body, shaking it. At the very last second, he reached down and withdrew, shooting hot semen all over her stomach and breasts.
“Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.” His white-knuckled fist rode up and down the thick rod of flesh, squeezing out what seemed like an endless rush of come. “Jiya, sweetheart. God. Baby, sweetheart. You’re so good. You’re fucking heaven.”