Page 30 of Forsaking All Others

But for now, I was mired in the dark, velvet sensation of lust, and I had no desire to self-analyze.

“Take me,” I told him, because I may have been a virgin and he may have been my husband, my source of money and safety and position in the world, but if he was going to own me, I would own him too. “Don’t be gentle, I want to feel you.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, fingers tightening around my hips in a way I knew would leave bruises I could poke at later. A moment after, the sound of a zipper lowering rasped through the room and then the hot, broad press of flushed skin was between my swollen, slick folds.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I wonder if you’ll bleed on my cock, little virgin.”

It shocked me that I hoped I did.

There was something primal about it, about marking him that way.

Dario curled over me as his cock pressed in slowly, inexorably, the stretch slightly painful in a way that made me moan too loudly. I liked the edge of pain, and I liked it more when he pushed my hair from one side of my head and fixed his teeth to my neck, biting into the junction where it met my shoulder.

Just as his teeth closed, his hips jerked forward, and he seated himself to the root inside me.

I cried out, the sound echoing away and back against the marble surrounding us.

“That’s it,” Dario praised in a smug rumble. “Look at you taking every inch of me. Does it hurt, little doll, to be fucked open for the first time?”

“Yes,” I said, teeth almost chattering because it did. It hurt.

But God, it was so good I felt the ache of it in the roots of my teeth.

“You like the pain, don’t you?” he said, reading my mind as he worried at the hickey on my neck. “You like the stretch and burn of me inside this snug pussy. Knowing you’ll feel the phantom ache of me for days.”

“Yes,” I agreed, pushing my hips back. “Make me feel you.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he warned, before pulling out to the tip and driving back in so hard I lost my breath to the force.

This wasn’t lovemaking.

It wasn’t a tender sexual awakening.

It was a rending, of myself from the last vestiges of my girlhood, of Dario from the cold stranger he’d cast himself to be, of the reality I’d painstakingly built over the last year that I didn’t need this, didn’t need him to be happy.

Because there was no doubting it now, I did.

I was the kind of woman who needed to be known this way.

Carnally.

Taken ruthlessly because my partner knew I liked it that way, bent and molded into shape by his hands and his will because this was the only way I’d found I enjoyed taking orders. The last year had made me realize I was not meek, and it seemed that extended even to my sexuality.

I never wanted this push and pull to end. I never wanted Dario to leave my body, or leave me, again.

But even in my desire-drenched delirium, I was too smart to buy into that fantasy.

So I took advantage of the moment.

I braced against the wall, my heavy breasts swaying in time with his thrusts so my nipples brushed the cool mirrored surface in a way that sent tingles down my spine. I reached behind me with one hand to clutch Dario close by the back of his hair, twisting to bare my neck for more ministrations from his sharp teeth. I bucked against the thick drive of his cock, almost bouncing on it, loving the way he hit the end of me, the pleasure-pain, the eye-watering intensity of it all.

I gasped and moaned and cried out his name or God’s, and he was right, I couldn’t distinguish between the two.

And when I came, I did it blind, my senses ripped from me by the black deluge of sensation that crashed over my head.

Dario held me as I shook apart, losing his fierce rhythm as he ground into me, my walls milking him until he tipped his head back and roared with his release. I could feel the heat of it inside me, the fullness of his cum driven out around his still-plundering cock, sliding down my thighs.

It pulled my climax out like warm taffy, the comedown long and slow and languorous.