Page 94 of Ruthless Claim

Then he stands on his knees and inches up behind me, his cock hard and long against his pelvis.

Cillian slips one finger inside of me, then, when it is all too easy, another. “Fuck, you really do want me.”

“So bad.” I collapse on my forearms and press my forehead to the mattress as Cillian fingers me.

He’s unrelenting and confident, making me sway and jolt as he spreads then curls his fingers.

He makes a noise of pure satisfaction before he yanks my hair and sinks into me in one swift motion.

I scream, back arching deeply and jerking up to my palms as Cillian retreats and thrusts into me again. Again. Again.

I cry out, the words coming deep out of me.

He winds my hair around his fist so I arch higher toward him.

Sounds of fucking fill the room—moan and slapping skin and heavy breathing forming a choral symphony. High and low.

My breasts rock back and forth, sometimes grazing the sheets if my arms lose the ability to hold me up.

The sensation of my sensitive nipples against the smooth sheets makes me cry out.

Cillian takes and takes, demanding what he wants. “Spread your legs wider…arch your spine. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” I promise, because it’s true. He has me. Mine. Body. Soul. Cillian is ensnared around every part of me, and I can’t imagine a tomorrow without him. “I’m yours,” I repeat.

“Good girl.” He slams up into me again, hard muscle stroking my clit. His cock is so deep that it grazes part of me I didn’t even know could be stimulated.

The warm press of a body sinking into me. The sweet words of a lover promising he is mine. One who worships my body, arousing my mind, taking care of me.

“Cillian,” I gasp in a deep wave of pleasure, broken and all breath.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you?” He drops over me, balls deep, to speak into my ear. I flatten on my stomach, his weight sinking us to the mattress. He twists both arms around my waist and flip us over so he’s on his back and I’m on top of him, facing the ceiling, still stuffed with his cock.

“Oh, god.” My eyes roll behind my head as his fingers touch my clit, rubbing quick but soft circles, the same pressure as when he had me hoisted against him. My front is suddenly cold, open to the room, while all the parts plastered to Cillian are slick with heat.

“Grind on me,” he rasps.

Unable to resist his demand, I sway my hips, planting my feet flat on either side of his legs to lift myself up and down, side to side. I don’t let his cock out of me but play with the length of what he has inside of me.

“Fuck, fuck, Valentina,” he groans. “Turn around. I want to see your face.”

I sit up, so wet he slips out of me easily, then turn, facing him a second later.

Gripping his slick cock in one hand, I hold it in place to glide my pussy lips against him.

I thrust back and forth, rubbing my clit without granting him entrance, drawing my slick against his toned abdomen.

Mine. He’s all mine.

Cillian squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain. “Oh my fucking—” His words are cut off by a sharp gasp when I draw his tip against my clit, flicking it up and down to make myself come.

The sight of him, unhinged and writhing beneath my body, unable to form a single sentence, coupled with his wet, hard length shooting pleasure along my clitoris, triggers orgasm.

I screw my eyes shut, feeling and feeling and feeling.

Intense vibrations spark between my legs and soar up my spine, spiking my heart rate.

My back arches as sensation takes over, body free to stutter and bend as it pleases, riding out every molecule of euphoria.