Nothing about this is gentle.
None of it is sweet or nice.
He holds the back of my neck so tight, I’m sure it will leave a bruise.
This is dangerous and angry. He’s still not done hate-fucking me yet, and frankly, I don’t care.
His hips thrust forward, and he slams into me, forcing my face down on the comforter, making my back arch.
“Ruégame,” he commands again through clenched teeth. “Ahora, niñita.” Now, little girl.
“Cojeme más fuerte, Jefe,” I beg, my breaths rapid now. Fuck me harder, Jefe.
I throw my hair over my shoulder, but he catches it, pulling on it like one would the reins of a horse. His lips come closer to my ear. “Again,” he groans, pulling out, making me ache all over again, more now.
“Fuck me, please,” I sigh, plead.
And he has no problem doing so. He flips me onto my back, spreading my legs wider apart. His cock is buried inside me again in no time, and he folds my legs, clutching my hips as he stands in front of the edge of the bed. He lifts me up, angling my pussy just right, and as he holds me tight, he slams into me again.
Over, and over, and over again.
He watches me with fierce, wicked eyes, not once wavering. Not once does he pull his searing gaze away from me.
He wants me to know that he owns me—mind, body, and soul. He wants the whole fucking world to know I belong to him.
Him and only him.
He bends over, his mouth coming to one of my nipples, and he sucks it into his mouth until it’s supple and pebbled, his hips still grinding. With the sensational tug of my nipples, and his cock hitting my most tender spot, I can’t help what happens next.
My thighs shake around his waist, my eyes rolling backward. It’s too much. He’s too much. Too amazing. So fucking good.
God, I come. I come so hard around his delicious cock.
I hold him tight, my fingernails sinking into his skin as a hard moan rips right through me. He groans from the pierce of my nails, but he doesn’t stop moving. “You are squirting all over my cock, niñita,” he says in my ear, voice deep and raspy. So sexy. So bad.
He curses beneath his breath as his strokes become unsteady, a hand sliding down to hitch my knee up to my chest, plunging deeper, gripping the meat of my ass as he pounds away. Before I come down from the high of my orgasm, he’s pulling out and sliding down, his mouth hovering over my pussy.
I look down and his eyes are trained on mine. He seals his mouth around my clit first and then slides his hot, smooth tongue down and around, licking up every drop.
My fingernails sink into the comforter, my back bowing. I beg him, “…please…please, Draco.” It’s too much. Too powerful. I feel like I’m going to explode and shatter by a million tiny orgasms.
But of course he doesn’t let up. He eats me hungrily, sucking and licking my pussy, taking it all in, until I squeal so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it.
It’s impossible for my body to die down, especially when he’s deep inside me again, his mouth claiming mine. I taste myself on him. My body is writhing beneath his.
His hand cups the back of my neck, and he presses my forehead to his shoulder, our bodies completely molded. Becoming one. Merging. Syncing. His other hand is on my hip, and as my orgasm continues shooting through me, his body stills, his head turning to look down at me.
I sink my teeth into his bottom lip before releasing it, holding on tight to him, his savage groan vibrating on my bosom.
His hips work hard with each spurt of release. When he finally collapses, I twitch and clench my walls around his satisfied cock, breathing way too hard. My hair is slick with sweat, as well as my body.
I don’t know what the hell that was or how it happened so quickly. I don’t know how he knows my body so well or how he did this to me—how he always does this to me—but it was exactly what I needed.
His hate and his passion: a mix of the two always leaves me craving more.
“Eres toda mía, Gianna. Para siempre.” You are all mine, Gianna. Forever.
I release my last sigh, shutting my eyes, and giving him a simple nod. “I’m all yours, Draco, for as long as you’ll have me.”
32
GIANNA
“I know what last Thursday was,” I whisper on his chest. We lay in the bed, our legs tangled up, my ear on his chest.
I was about to leave the room after he fucked his hatred away—figured he still needed space from me—but he told me to stay. Now, here we are, breaths mingling, my fingers playing their own piano game on his ribcage to the Latin music coming out of the hidden speakers.