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The second orgasm hit deeper than the first. It crashed into me until every limb went taut and my vision whited out. My inner walls clamped down on his fingers as the pleasure rocked through me in long, pulsing waves.

I cried out. A broken, ragged sound.

Which was cut off a moment later by a pillow smashed over my face. His fingers were gone. My pussy was empty, pulsing brokenly for something to hold onto. But he kept the vibrator right where it was, drawing the pleasure out, and by the time the contractions began to ease, I was panting and trembling and my skin was slick with sweat.

Only then did he turn off the vibrator and set it on my nightstand.

“That was perfect,” he murmured.

I rolled on my side, gripping the pillow to my face.

He stood, and I felt the brush of his pants against my calves. Through the broken gasps, I heard him unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and pushed them down.

Madonna santa…more?

I can’t take it.

“Yes, carina, you can.” Hands slid over my sides, touching and memorizing. “You can.”

I hadn’t spoken. But he’d heard my thoughts.

He knew me.

Pushing up, I reached for him. He stilled at the contact. When I felt his cock, my mouth went dry. Thick and hard, it jutted from a thatch of hair. The head leaked on my palm. He was big. Merciless saints! He was huge!

“Lie back,” he ordered.

The shadow of his body, fully naked, towering over my bed with that lethal body and that predatory energy, sent a fresh pulse of want through my thoroughly sexed-out system.

I dropped backward, brushing strands of hair off my face.

The sound of a foil wrapper tore above me. As he rolled it down his length, he added something else. I squinted, peering through the dark, but it wasn’t until he pressed and held the button that I realized what it was. A cock ring, with a small bullet vibrator attached.

“Have mercy,” I breathed, my pussy weeping in anticipation.

“There is none.”

He crawled onto the bed, moving over me with a lethal grace, and positioned himself between my thighs. One hand braced beside my head, the other guiding himself to my entrance. His touch brushed over my face reverently.

Through the darkness, we locked eyes, staring straight into each other’s souls even if we couldn’t see one another clearly.

For a moment, the world stopped turning just for us.

There was no coming back from this.

I gave him a small nod.

His mouth twitched, but I couldn’t see if the smile was soft or feral.

The head of his cock pressed against me. My body, still sensitive, still recovering, was wet enough from two orgasms that he slid in with a single, relentless push. The fullness stole my breath. He was everywhere, stretching me, filling me completely as the vibrator on the cock ring buzzed against my clit. My legs wrapped around his waist of their own accord, heels digging into the small of his back. I pulled him deeper.

“Fuck, Rose,” he breathed, his forehead dropping to mine. He didn’t move. Just stayed buried inside me. Both of us shook with the intensity of the connection. His breath was hot against my face, ragged, and I could feel his heart hammering against my chest.

Then he pulled back and thrust in again.

The world narrowed to a single point of sensation.

He did it again. His pace was measured at first. The deep, controlled strokes hit places inside me that made my toes curl. The vibrator buzzed against my aching, swollen clit with every thrust. The dual stimulation was almost too much. I clutched at his shoulders, his back, anywhere I could reach. When his pace became deeper—harder—I dug into his muscles, nails scoring his flesh.