Maybe she did. Maybe I'd been hers all along.
Her pussy was dripping, and I could feel the heat of her even through the thin barrier of the condom. I choked on a groan. My hands flew to her thighs as she aligned us, but she didn’t sink onto me yet. No, she hovered. It was teasing and evil.
“You like when I take control?” she asked softly, dragging her nails down my chest, stopping just above my hipbones.
“Fuck yes,” I breathed. I reached up and tugged the robe the rest of the way off her shoulders, letting it fall to the bed with a quietwhoosh. Her bra was askew, barely hanging on, so I reached around her back and unclasped it with one hand, baring her fully. Every inch of her was flushed, radiant, glorious. Her perfect handful-sized tits bounced slightly as she shifted her weight, golden strands stuck to her sweat-slick skin, freckles dusted across the curves of her breasts and shoulders like goddamn constellations. I’d never seen anything more beautiful.
She smirked, and then slowly, torturously, she lowered herself onto me. She sank onto me in one long, slow glide, inch by torturous inch, until her ass was flush against my thighs and my cock was buried to the hilt.
Holy fuck.
My head tipped back, a strangled sound catching in my throat. She was so tight and warm wrapped around me so effortlessly, it was like she was made for me. She didn’t give either of us time to adjust, just took me in one smooth, breathless glide. Her jaw dropped, chest rising in short, shaky breaths as she settled onto my cock. She rocked her hips once, hard and filthy, and I damn near blacked out.
“You okay down there?” she asked innocently, her voice a rasp.
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Good.” She rolled her hips again. “Die wrecked knowing this rookie just stole pole.”
I grinned up at her like the bastard she always accused me of being. “Enjoy your pole, baby. Ladies should always finish first.”
My nails dug into her thighs as she found a rhythm—slow at first, rolling and sensual. Her hands braced on my chest, her eyes locked on mine like she was watching every second of me falling apart beneath her. She tilted her head back, body rocking and mouth open, and her hair dragged across my thighs like silk with every thrust of her hips. This version of her was pure sin, and it would live rent-free in my brain for the rest of eternity.
“Tu aimes ça?” she whispered breathlessly—You like that?—voice dripping sin. Fuuuuuck, when she spoke French,it was enough to make me weak. “Being fucked by the girl who’s supposed to beat you?”
My groan was a broken, wrecked sound. “Keep talking like that and I’ll flip you over right fucking now.”
“Oh no,” she purred, nails biting into my chest. “Not until I’ve wrung every drop of control from you.”
She moved like sin incarnate with flushed skin, damp strands of hair sticking to her neck, her tits bouncing with every roll of her hips. I tried to lift my head to kiss them, to taste her again, but she pushed me back down with a palm to my sternum.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not done with you yet.”
She picked up the pace. The wet slide of her pussy drove me to the brink with every fucking grind. I was panting, sweating, shaking with the effort of not grabbing her and slamming her down onto my cock until we both came so hard we saw stars.
But this was her moment, and she was goddamndevouringme.
“Fuck, Auri.” My voice broke on her name.
She leaned forward, kissing me deeply, moaning into my mouth as her pussy clenched around me. Her hands threaded into my hair as she rocked harder, her thighs shaking against mine. Her nails raked down my chest again—deeper this time, hard enough to sting. I hissed through my teeth. There’d be marks tomorrow. Maybe even blood. I hoped so. I wanted to see the aftermath. I wanted reminders of this everywhere.
“Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me you're mine.”
Our eyes met, and my heart did this strange flipping thing that felt a little too vulnerable given our current positions. “I’vealwaysbeen yours,” I admitted anyway.
Her breath hitched and her rhythm faltered.
I seized the moment, my hand slipping between us to find her clit. I circled it once, slow and deliberate, and her entire body jolted. Another swirl and she shattered, hips stuttering, an erotic sound tearing from her throat, nails digging into my shoulders, her sweet little cunt tightening around me so hard I nearly came again.
She cried out my name, a wrecked, broken moan that filled the room and filled my fucking chest.
“Just needed a distraction, didn’t I?” I rasped, holding her through the waves of it. “That’s all I needed, love.” My hands moved to her hips, gripping hard. In one brutal motion, I flipped us, her gasp ripping into the air, and pinned her to the bed beneath me. “Your turn,” I growled.
I reached behind her knees and dragged her down the bed, flipping her onto her stomach in one rough, fluid move. She squealed, panting on all fours, but didn’t resist. Not even when I spread her legs and pressed a hand flat between her shoulder blades. She arched her back beautifully, ass high, chest flush to the mattress, hair spilling wild and golden against the crisp white sheets that I couldn't wait to fucking ruin.
She was already so open for me.
But then my gaze dropped. Right above the swell of her ass, nestled between the two dimples on her lower back, was a delicate little tattoo. Black ink and cursive script.
