shallow thrusts, working the first half of his length inside. "Fuck," he hisses through his teeth. “You really are gonna fucking kill me.”
I whimper when he hits something particularly deep and my nails sink into the skin of his back. He groans.
"God, those fucking sounds." His breath hits my ear—hot and humid—a split second before he leans down and his teeth scrape my earlobe. He bites down. Hard. I moan as a shot of adrenaline pours through me. "Louder," he orders. "I want them to hear you come on my cock."
Shit fuck. I don't think anything could sound hotter than the confidence in his tone. There’s no question of whether or not I’ll come on his cock—only the inevitability. He’s going to be the death of me. He’s going to wreck me from the inside out and I’m perfectly okay with it as long as it feels this fucking good. I gasp as he pulls back and thrusts into me, his cock spearing through my pussy and hitting a point inside my core that almost hurts.
Dean arches up, doing it again and again. Moving faster and faster, slamming into me so hard that the bed moves and the headboard smacks into the wall with every thrust. His hand comes down, gripping my breast, and squeezing roughly. I love it. The roughness. The aggressive feeling of being fucked by him. I’ve had guys do it before—grab my tit when they fuck me, but for some reason—coming from him, it’s different. Perhaps because he doesn't just squeeze and release like they had. Instead, he squeezes harder—hard enough to hurt—before he lets go and then feathers his fingers over the tip again. His thumbs and forefingers move over my nipples. Gently. A tease. A whisper right before he fucking grips the peaks and twists.
"Fuck!" I scream as an orgasm lashes through me. It barrels through my body, white hot, unexpected. Faster than I'd ever imagined. It wipes out all rational thought and completely consumes me, overwhelms my logical brain and drowns out all else until I’m riding on a wave of pure ecstasy. It’s then that I realize, Dean Carter is a fucking drug. Dangerous. Deadly. Addictive.
I pant, gasping for air. Shocked at how hard it is just to fucking breathe. But he isn't done. Far from it, in fact. He withdraws his cock, sliding through my folds, coated in the remains of my orgasm, and smiles down at me. "Good girl," he whispers, bending towards me and pressing a fast kiss to my mouth. Then he powers forward again, and as sensitive as I am after my last orgasm, I feel the movement ten times harder. My nails scrape down his back, dragging down his sides, over his ribs, and I know without seeing them that I’ve left my mark on him.
Dean hisses, arching into the pain of my grip. I know it has to hurt, but from the way he’s acting—grinding into me, fucking me harder than ever—it’s clear he doesn’t give a shit. Dirty asshole, I think, even as I cling to his much larger frame, letting him overwhelm me. It takes only minutes of his thrusting before I feel the flutterings of another orgasm.
What the actual fuck? I just came. It’s not possible. “Dean,” I gasp.
“That’s right, baby,” he urges, thrusting faster, hitting against that spot inside me—pounding it into oblivion. “Say my name.”
He’s unhinged. Powerful. Hungry. Unstoppable. I open my mouth to scream again, but nothing comes out. The pleasure ricochets up through me, and my chest collapses. My heart slams against the confines of my ribcage. My eyes roll back into my head.
I’m going to die like this, I think just before the peak overcomes me. In the throes of some ridiculously delicious sex.
Hands grip my wrists and yank them away from his flesh. My eyes slam open. I hadn't even noticed when they closed. He shoves my arms up the bed, beneath the pillows, holding them down as his hips rise and fall. We’re connected, now, only by the place where he’s pounding his cock into me and where our hands clasp together. Dean’s eyes meet mine—dark and heated.
"Look at me," he commands. There’s no denying him. I already am. "You're gonna come again, aren't you?" he asks with an evil smile.
I can't respond. Trying to inhale and exhale is still too much of a chore. I open my mouth, but instead of speaking, I moan when he pushes into me at the same moment. He