Page 128 of Ruthless Vow
I sink down.
The stretch is exquisite. He’s big, and I’m swollen and sensitive from a week of wanting, and I have to take him inch by slow inch. My thighs tremble with the effort of control.
He fills me, pushing against nerve endings that spark and sing, until I’m seated and we’re both shaking.
“Fuck.” The curse rips out of him. He grips my hips, digging in hard enough to mark. “So tight.Cazzo, tesoro,you’re strangling my cock.”
I can’t speak. Can only drag in air.
The sensation of being this full, this stretched, overwhelms everything else. My thoughts scatter like numbers knocked off a page.
“Breathe,” he says. Low. Strained.
I hold there, adjusting, feeling him pulse inside me.
“Hey.” His voice shifts. Still strained, held back by a thread, but he strokes circles on my hip bones. Gentle. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not.” I rock forward. Pleasure sparks up my spine. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Then move.” His grip tightens. Not guiding. Demanding. “Ride me,tesoro.Show me who you belong to.”
I start to rock. Slow at first. A roll of my hips that drags him out of me, then takes him deep again. The friction is devastating, hitting the spot inside me that makes my vision blur.
I brace against his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath me. Pounding fast now. Faster than the steady sixty-two I’ve been monitoring for a week.
“Your heart’s racing,” I whisper.
“You’re doing that.” His jaw clenches. “Don’t stop.”
“Use me.” His voice breaks on the words. Wrecked. “Take everything.”
I do.
I roll my hips again, finding a rhythm, feeling him stroke places inside me that only he has ever reached. Every thrust sends sparks shooting through my core. Every retreat leaves me aching, desperate.
The hospital bed groans beneath us, springs protesting, and the sound is obscene against the quiet of the medical wing.
“They can hear us,” I gasp.
“Good.”
“Faster.” His hips buck up to meet me, driving deeper. “You can take it harder than that. Give me everything.”
I obey. My pace builds, hips snapping down to meet his, the wet slap of our bodies filling the room. Sweat breaks out across my skin. My legs burn.
All that matters is the pressure building, the pleasure coiling through my belly, the look on his face like I’ve brought him to his knees even though he’s on his back.
“Cristo.Look at you.” He sounds destroyed. “Fucking yourself on me like you were made for it. So goddamn beautiful I can’t.” The words break off. His head falls back against the pillow.
His words land somewhere below my navel like a detonation. I moan, head falling back, and the pressure builds at the base of my spine.
Close. So close and I can’t think, can’t do anything but chase it.
“That’s it.” His thumb finds my clit, circling with a pressure that buckles my arms. “Good girl. You’re close. I can feel your pussy gripping me. Let go.”
He sits up, wrapping his arms around me, and the angle changes.
Now he’s deeper, impossibly deep, and he’s sucking my nipple between his teeth, working the peak until I gasp and shake.
