Page 91 of Forsaking All Others

“Fine,” I breathed. “You own me. Show me why I let you.”

“That’s my girl,” he said into the side of my neck before biting into my shoulder and driving hard into my cunt.

My eyes squeezed shut as my body filled to the brim with him.

His cock inside me, his sweet and spicy scent in my nose, his body pressed the entire length of mine, his name on my tongue ready to be unleashed on a moan.

I had never felt so wholly possessed, as if he actually wanted every inch of me to be his inside and out. Something like a trance descended as he thrust brutally into the hot clutch of my body, my only thoughts an intangible, wordless euphoria.

“I want you to watch me take you apart,” he rumbled in frustration, suddenly slipping from my body.

I whimpered in protest, but he was already moving, undoing the ropes at my ankles and wrists. Using one of the scarlet woven strands, he collected both my wrists and quickly, with an efficiency that made my mouth dry, rebound them. When he held them up to the center of the headboard so they were stretched above my head, I didn’t know how he planned to secure them until he reached for the bedside table on what I was coming to think of as his side of the bed.

A dark blade caught the security lights spilling in from the open curtains, and I held my breath as his arm snapped forward, embedding the dagger in the knot between my wrists so I was shackled like a prisoner to the headboard.

I shivered so brutally, my teeth clanged together and my hips jerked off the bed.

“Yes,” he hissed with masculine satisfaction, gripping my inner thighs and pushing them up and out so I was utterly exposed to his hot gaze as he trailed it over the wet, swollen pink folds of my pussy. “All mine and fucking perfect.”

He bent to lick a broad stripe up my seam and then lunged forward with my legs over his forearms, bending me neatly in half as he plunged back into my core. A scream ripped from my lungs and lashed through the room.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” he grunted as he drove fiercely inside me, fucking me like he wanted me to feel it forever.

I wanted that too.

“Harder,” I begged, writhing up against each thrust with my hips so that the sting of his length at my cervix added a sharp bite of pain to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Dio mio,” I gasped. “I’m going to come. Oh God, it’s too much.”

“Give it to me,” he ordered in that cold, Mafia capo voice that squeezed like a hand at my throat. “Come all over my cock, little flame.”

I burst open.

Like gasoline splashed on a fire, all heat and pleasure so acute it felt almost like agony. A scream echoed through the room, but I couldn’t recognize it as my own. Dario adjusted so one of his hands was over our connection, palm grinding into my clit, fingers splayed around the thick wedge of his cock inside me so he could experience me pulsating from the inside and out.

It didn’t end, not when it should have.

The pleasure spiraled deeper, darker, until I quaked with it in my bones with each slide of his shaft over that sensitive knot of nerves inside me, each press of palm into my clit.

“No, no, no,” I chanted mindlessly, but I meant yes, yes, yes.

It was almost terrifying to shake apart, to rupture into each individual atom, but I could feel the broad press of Dario’s body over mine like a comfort and shield, and I let myself fall into the sensation.

When I came to awareness again, swimming up from the depths, it was to see him looming above me, neck tight with strain, jaw iron hard, eyes blazing like black coals, all pupil as he stared down at me in exultant triumph.

“Mine,” he growled in such a low bass it was nearly indecipherable.

It meant something then, me shattered beneath him but collected in his arms, him about to explode apart inside me.

I curled my legs tighter around his hips and leveraged my hips higher so he could fuck me deeper.

“Yours,” I agreed.

A moment later, he came, a climax that rippled over his entire big heaving body, dense muscles quivering, hips juddering, cock kicking. I held him as close as I could with my thighs at his sides, calves locked over his stuttering hips. The flood of his heat inside me felt better than the idea of a tattoo. Felt elemental and right in a way I never could have imagined.

He grunted softly as the orgasm left him, lowering himself onto my body with some of his weight braced on his forearms so he didn’t crush me under his heavy limbs. His nose trailed up my damp throat, and he licked sweat out of the hollow of my throat with a lazy tenderness that undid me more than the hard fucking, more than the compliments he’d given me in the dive bar.

Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach, so close to throwing up I was claustrophobic under the pressure of his body.