“You, only you.” I jerked my hips back at him. “Always you.”
His hands were back on my ass, powerfully clenching and pulling them apart to make way for his cock. He nudged my slicked opening and paused.
“I could own you, all of you.”
“Yes.”
The head of his cock slid slowly, only an inch, inside me.
“Do you know how I know that?” he asked, his voice softer now, smoother than the hand that stroked down my back as he pushed further inside me. “I know because you own me, my siren.”
I buried my face in the blanket and groaned raggedly as he seated himself fully inside me. The pain was like a heated blade cutting through me and my bottom was raw from the spanking. I was surprised by how much I liked the pain, loved how it unlocked my mind and sent it reeling into velvety darkness. Loved that it was Sinclair in this most private part of me. The feeling was so intense that I wanted to wriggle away from it but each undulation of my ass only pressed him further against me.
“Ah,” I said, chasing after each elusive breath.
“Hush.”
His hands were all over my skin, soothing away my restlessness by lighting fire to my nipples with firm twists and tugs, dipping into my drenched sex to pinch my clit. After endless minutes, he rooted one hand in my hair and tugged until my neck was craned back and he was hunched over me, his tongue on my ear.
“I’m going to fuck you now. I expect you to ask permission before you come.”
I didn’t know if I could orgasm like that but I held back my concern.
His hands rubbed roughly over my ass, reawakening the ache there. “You can and you will come for me like this.”
The first sinuous glide of his cock leaving my body was strange and wonderful and as he began to saw in and out of me at an infuriatingly slow pace, my clit began to throb like a strobe light.
The calloused fingers of one hand plucked at my nipples while the other flattened across my stomach and urged me to sit back against his thighs. I whimpered and moaned, ugly little animal sounds as I churned up and down, grinding and bucking in any way I could to relieve the ache swelling uncomfortably inside me.
“Ah, Sinclair,” I begged, unable to speak but desperate to convey how much I need more, more, more.
He turned my head, fusing his mouth over mine to absorb my cries into himself as his fingers grew cruel against my breasts, as his hips jutted punishingly against mine. I screamed against his lips as his hand slid lower and rhythmically pinched my clit to the beat of his savage strokes.
I tore my lips from his, the separation painful as if Velcro secured us. “Please, let me come.”
He hummed but continued the torment.
“Please, please.”
His mouth found my ear, nibbled at the lobe before his tongue slid down my salty neck. His voice filled me like a second cock. “What are you thinking about, siren?”
The feel of his sweat slicked skin against mine, the powerful clench of his hands on my hips, the sound of our bodies slapping and panting… Him, him, him.
“You.”
“Yes,” he hissed and three of his fingers plunged into my sex. “Come for me.”
I had never been so happy to obey anyone in my life.
Chapter Thirteen.
I’d never had a vision of the kind of man I might fall in love with.
My sisters always had. Cosima imagined herself with an Italian, someone who worked with their hands and came home smelling of earth and wine. They would love passionately and fight passionately and have a brood of gorgeous children who constantly got underfoot. I had yet to see her with such a man, but it was a dream that I knew she kept sewn into the lining of
her soul.
Elena’s prince was a little more typical and a whole lot more modern. She didn’t want to be treated like the timeless woman the way Cosima did, like a sexual creature and a domestic goddess. Elena wanted a relationship of equals, a partnership that afforded her individual power and independence. Her man was eloquent, elegantly opinionated and urbane.