shifts as he processes the challenge. When he grazes my windpipe with the tips of his fingers, I expect him to grip it, forcing my mouth open. Instead, he withdraws…
Only to snatch a length of my hair in the same breath. Viciously, he tugs, yanking me to my feet, wrenching me around so that my back is to him, my hands forced to brace against the wall of the stall.
He gives me no forewarning. No preparation. Only the water basting our bodies provides him any lubrication as he slams inside of me with a ferocity so intense, I cry out—that and the fact that I’m already wet for him. He hisses as my readiness drags him deep—so deep that his balls smack against my inner thighs, driving home the depth he’s reached.
It should hurt, I think.
But it doesn’t.
It stings, and it burns, and it’s terrifying just how good it feels.
I should hate this man, vomit at his mere touch.
And yet, he has me moaning in a way I never have. Only as he abruptly withdraws do I realize he imparted that single thrust. Nothing more.
“You think you can command me,” he murmurs against my throat. Then he bites, raking his teeth down to my shoulder. My startled cry nearly drowns out his next words. “I am the one in control here, Ada—” He jerks me around to face him, his eyes glowing, teeth bared. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” I croak. But, before I can talk myself out of it, I run my hands down his chest, hoping to further distract him. I’ve already found the ridge of his surgical scar by the time he angles his gaze toward my rebellious fingers, his brows furrowing. “But I was just curious,” I murmur, letting my voice meld with the hum of the shower spray.
He inclines his head, betraying the fact that he’s listening to me at all. Yet, he has enough pride not to ask me the question my coy answer demands.
So, I give it to him anyway. “I was curious,” I say, arching against his chest. This close, I can feel his breath catch, his muscles going rigid. Especially when I bring my mouth near his ear. “I wanted to know how quickly I could come on your cock. How good it could be… So that when you sell me, I can be confident I’ll please my buyer—”
Snarling, he snatches my throat, bucking his hips at the same time. Fire. I’m suffocating and stuffed…and it’s…
Incredible. A cry builds and sticks in my lungs as he tightens his grip, shoving me down onto the bench. He releases me, only to snatch my legs, one in each hand, and hike them against his hips as he pistons.
The harsh surface beneath me bites into my lower back like a brutal anchor as my thoughts become less coherent with every punishing thrust.
I’ve never been used like this. Ridden is the only term I can think of to describe it. Taken.
And thoroughly enjoyed by the bastard doing so.
Grunting, Domino throws his head back, his throat cording, nails piercing my flesh with every stroke. He couldn’t hide his pleasure if he tried, and the more I watch him, the easier it is to forget. And hate.
And ignore how long I craved to have him inside me just like this.
Soon, it’s too dizzying to look at him. I just close my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure ripping through my body, piece by piece. My impending orgasm is a death sentence and looms closer with every harsh stroke of his cock. Each brutal shove as he draws me into him.
But it isn’t until I hear his voice, hoarse and grated, “Fuck… Ada—” that I finally feel it hit with the force of a crushing blow.
I hate that it feels as good as it does.
I hate that he’s proved my little dare to be a reality—he can make me come like this, with only his cock, deployed as a weapon however he sees fit.
I’m still writhing when I feel him pull out, shoving me away. Boneless, I slump off the bench, landing on my knees against the damp floor as the water continues to pelt us both.
I hear him move, and I look up to find him snatch a rag from a built-in shelf and briskly wash himself off. Then he throws it aside and steps from the stall, storming into the bathroom, presumably to get a towel.
I don’t know how much time passes before his voice finally reaches back