Good Gone Bad (The Fallen Men 3)

He thrust forward slowly, his own teeth gritted with concentration as he spread my pussy open, pinched my clit until it lurched with each beat of my pulse and then he clamped it with that innocuous, vicious little clamp.

I screamed, thrashing so hard he had to hold me down and work hard to pump his cock into my clenching cunt.

I wasn’t body, I was electricity, humming against him, spasming like a current.

“Yeah,” my dirty Danner rasped as he reached under his cock to twist the plug in my ass in a way that made me scream again. “Take it all, Rosie. Come apart for me, let me feel your cum on my cock.”

The orgasm tore through me, devastating the infrastructure of my body like a cyclone, twisting up my thoughts until they winked into nothing, ripping sensation across every inch of my body until I was nothing but human debris.

I was still coming when he twisted and pulled the plug from my ass. When he grabbed my cheeks in one hand to tilt me up over his thighs, exposed to his gaze, to the warm coconut oil smeared across my closing hole. A mini orgasm exploded in the haze of the first when he worked his fingers in there, two then three, pumping and twisting against the hot walls of my ass until I was writhing, my pussy weeping all over his lap.

“You ready to take my cock like my good fucking whore?” he asked me, his voice like an extra finger in my ass, filling me up with his ownership.

“Yes,” I panted. “Fuck yes.”

“Good girl,” he praised as he left me empty, clenching at nothing, so eager for it I moaned and moaned and moaned until I felt the searing press of his lubed cock at my entrance.

One of his hands found my throat and pressed firmly, cutting off just a fraction of my air in a way that heightened every inch of sensation.

And then he thrust, not stopping until his balls were pressed to my cheeks, his hair roughened groin pushed up against my drenched pussy, grinding slightly against my clit in a way I knew he was going to make me come again.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I chanted incoherently as my body possessed my brain, turning it base and heathen and so fucking greedy I couldn’t take a breath without wanting more from him.

“It isn’t God who owns this body,” Danner ground out, his face a gorgeous mask of stark almost painful desire. “Say my name while I fuck your ass.”

“Lion,” I panted, the word so sweet in my dry mouth. “Lion.”

“You want more don’t you my greedy little slut?” he asked.

I loved the way he called me his slut, his whore. As if I was the personification of all his dirtiest fantasies, as if only I could grant him his ultimate carnal satisfaction.

As if he knew I’d do anything to bring him pleasure.

“Yes,” I told him as his thick cock throbbed in my ass and my empty pussy pulsed. “More, please, Lion.”

“Yeah,” he drawled hot and low as he brought the hand not at my throat to my sopping cunt.

His fingers played in my cum there, smearing it from the front of my pussy to the back, just before where his hot cock filled me up. It was hot as fuck, his hand playing with the cum he’d forced from my pussy, lavishing me with my own arousal.

I shivered as an orgasm started to climb the ladder of my spine.

“Want you to take me everywhere, feel me in every inch of your body, in every facet of your goddamn beautiful soul,” he growled before thrusting his fingers into my pussy and bending over to seal his plundering mouth to mine, his hand still hot pressure on my throat.

I was filled up and full up on pain, but I wanted more.

Danner was my Dom, my dealer, and he knew he had power over my ultimate craving.

And that wasn’t the pain, it wasn’t even the pleasure.

It was the slick, painful slide of his thick cock in my clenching ass. His hungry mouth eating at my cries as I moaned and thrashed against him. The rough tipped fingers twisting, pulling, plucking at my nipples until they throbbed red and angry as the lights on his cop car. How he took me to the brink of insanity, held me poised over the edge, suspended between pain and pleasure, fear and completion, who I pretended to be and who I was in my bones. And when he finally propelled me over into the abyss and after I was done wheeling, free falling without thought or identity, so alive I was just a spot of light, a sound bite of ecstatic noise, he caught me again. He wrapped me up in his big arms with his coarse hands, tucked my face into his neck so I could feel his strong pulse against my cheek, his marble slab torso protecting my fragile heart and trembling core like an impenetrable shield.