Page 25

A soft, needy whimper slips past her lips. She leans into the touch, starved for it. Pure want.

“Take it off.” The command leaves my mouth quiet, a low rumble in the silent room.

She grabs the hem of the silk and pulls it over her head. No hesitation. No modesty. She tosses the garment to the floor and stands completely naked under the lamplight. Her chest heaves. Her thighs press together, seeking a friction I haven’t granted yet. Her hands twitch at her sides, desperate to touch me, to touch herself, but she knows the rules. She waits for permission. This isn’t forced compliance. This is a woman desperate for what comes next.

I circle her, my gaze dragging over the canvas I created. Fading yellow-green bruises mark her hips where I held her. The angry red bite mark on her shoulder remains fresh—I renew it regularly to ensure she remembers who owns her flesh. Faint pink rings circle her wrists from the restraints I used earlier in the week. She doesn’t cower or attempt to cover herself. She lifts her chin a fraction, proud of the marks. They are proof of my attention.

I step back in front of her and grip her jaw. “Whose body is this?”

“Yours.” Her voice comes out steady, thick with lust.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.” She parts her legs a fraction. “Please. God, please.”

The begging isn’t a requirement. It is genuine, desperate starvation.

I step behind her. I leave my clothes on, the rough denim of my jeans and the heavy cotton of my shirt pressing a stark contrast against her bare, flushed back. She arches backward instantly, grinding her soft ass into my hardening cock. Her head drops onto my shoulder. She exposes the long, vulnerable column of her throat in absolute trust. I wrap my hand around her neck. I don’t squeeze. I just hold her. Claiming the pulse.

My free hand slides down her flat stomach and dips between her thighs. My fingers slide through a thick coat of her arousal. She is dripping. The wetness coats my skin instantly, hot and slick. She gasps, a sharp, ragged sound, and jerks her hips back against my hand.

“Look at how fucking wet you are for me.” I slide two fingers along her slick folds, smearing her juices over her clit. “Have you been thinking about this? Waiting for me to use you?”

She nods frantically, her head rubbing against my shoulder. “Yes. All day. Always. I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About what you do to me.”

The raw honesty strips away the last of her old societal masks. She is addicted.

I grip her hip and guide her toward the mattress. “Get on the bed. Show me what belongs to me.”

She scrambles onto the sheets. She climbs to the center of the mattress, lies back, and pulls her knees wide. She reaches down, parting her swollen pink lips with her own fingers to put herself on full display. Eight weeks ago, this would have shattered her with shame. Tonight, she arches her lower back and moans my name, begging with her body.

I stand at the edge of the bed and unbuckle my belt. I make her wait. The metallic clink of the buckle sounds loud in the quiet room. She watches my hands, vibrating with need. A constant string of broken whimpers escapes her throat. A drop of her slickness forms and falls onto the dark sheets. She is entirely at the mercy of her own craving.

I strip off my clothes, tossing them aside, and step between her spread legs. The moment my skin brushes hers, she cries out in relief. I grip her hips, lifting her off the mattress, and align my heavy, aching cock with her dripping entrance.

“Please, Jax. Don’t make me wait. Please.”

I sink into her in one brutal, deep thrust.

She screams, a gorgeous sound of ecstasy, and wraps her long legs around my waist to lock me inside. I don’t give her time to adjust. I pull back and slam into her again, setting a punishing, demanding rhythm. I fuck her exactly how I want to—rough, selfish, claiming every inch of her tight sheath. She meets my violence with rabid enthusiasm. She arches her back, taking me deeper, crying out in pleasure.

“Harder. Please, don’t stop. Anything you want.” Her nails bite into my shoulders. “Fuck me.”

I reach down and crush her clit beneath my thumb, grinding it in time with my thrusts.

She breaks apart almost instantly. Her internal muscles clamp down around my cock in violent spasms. “Jax!”

The orgasm rips through her, raw and desperate. She thrashes beneath me, completely lost. Her pleasure fuels my own sick satisfaction. I keep fucking her through the climax, pushing past her oversensitivity. She takes the overwhelming sensation, whimpering and writhing, the line between pain and pleasure completely eradicated in her mind.

“Touch yourself.” I pull my hand away from her clit and grip her throat again, pinning her to the mattress. “Show me how much you like taking my cock.”

She obeys immediately. Her wet fingers find her own swollen flesh, rubbing furiously while I pound into her. She chases the next high at my command, shameless and broken.

I feel the tension winding tight in my own balls. I’m close. I watch her face flush, her eyes rolling back as she edges closer to her second climax.

I stop thrusting.

She freezes, her eyes snapping open, wild and unfocused. “No. No, please. Why did you stop?”