sliding the barrier down his shaft, he grips the base of his stiff erection and moves up my body. “I’ve no intentions of becoming a father again.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
It doesn’t hurt my feelings, as I don’t intend to become my mother, either--pregnant before I have my shit together. As he holds himself behind me, waiting and teasing, as usual, I raise my hips up and stir my ass against his groin to taunt him.
A firm hand grips the back of my neck, squeezing hard enough to make me still. I try to lift my head, to see if I’ve pissed him off somehow, but he holds me down, like a lion affirming dominance over his female. He’s a man who likes to be in control of his body, and perhaps my teasing caught him off guard.
“You love to taunt me. Yet, you tremble in my grasp.”
“I can’t tell if you’re angry.”
“I am angry.” Sliding my hands up to either side of the pillow, he holds me captive as he drives forward, filling the ache between my thighs. In slow and easy thrusts, he pumps in and out of me, jerking my body with each rough invasion. “I hate that fucking you has become my favorite thing in the world.”
“Then, stop, if it troubles you so much.”
“I can’t stop. Once I’m inside of you, and I can feel that tight little hole gripping my dick.” He bends my arms, and holds my wrists behind my back like that of a criminal about to be cuffed. His arm slides beneath my stomach, propping me up onto my knees, and with one hand holding my wrists captive, he grips the back of my neck again with the other. “It’s impossible to stop,” he grits in my ear, hips slapping against my ass as he pounds into me with fervor. “This is what you do to me. My head. My body. It’s madness. And I’m going to fuck you until I no longer feel this violence inside of me.”
I don’t know where, or when, I developed a desire for rough sex, but everything about this sends a wicked thrill through my body. The idea that I’ve stirred this lack of control, made him want me to the point of savagery, it almost feels like too much power in my hands. Like I’m holding the reins of an untamable beast.
Like I’m the one in control.
It’s strange, the way he makes me feel this way, as comparatively small and inexperienced as I am.
I turn my head into the pillow, breathing hard against the cotton, and my thoughts take me back to the night before, when his lips sealed off the oxygen as I climaxed. How exquisite it felt, the tug for air, the tightening of muscles, my body in a frenzy for release.
Pace escalating, he grunts while he ruts against me, the force of his body knocking what little breath remains out of my lungs.
I focus on his stiff length slipping in and out of me, the way my breasts jitter beneath me on each forward thrust.
Oh, God.
My head urges me to turn and steal a breath, but I can’t. I want the burn in my chest, the cramping in my womb, and the tremble of my muscles, as it culminates inside of me.
“Keep your head in the pillow.” Lucian’s voice is ragged and strained, his fingers digging into my wrists, keeping me hostage as he drives into me.
My body jostles like a ragdoll beneath him, helpless to his relentless assault, and I curl my fingers in his grasp, desperate for air, desperate for release, desperate for the pleasure he’s stirred inside of me.
So close.
Chest pulsing for one sip of breath, I bite the sheets, listening to the perpetual sound of slapping skin echo through the room over his grunts and growls.
Long, labored moans escape my lips, captured into the pillowcase. The damp cotton fails to offer more than a small bit of air, not enough to fill my lungs.
My muscles tighten. Toes curl. Arms tremble in his grasp. I’m so close.
“Come for me, Isa.”
The deep timbre of Lucian’s voice sends me flying over the edge, into the stratosphere where the light flashes in my eyes. I scream into the pillow, while pleasure rips through my body, the dizzying poison exploding through my veins.
I turn my head to suck in a breath, drinking in the cool air that rushes into my chest. His palm slides beneath my throat, my wrists still bound in his other hand, and he