“You told me to. I’m a good girl. I follow orders,” she breathes, wide-eyed. “Or maybe I just wanted you to rip it off.”
So I do.
I toss it to the floor and kiss her like if I press hard enough, I can stop thinking. Stop shaking. Stop feeling the way she’s wormed her way inside every hollow in my chest.
She kisses me like she’d bite if I pulled away.
Teeth. Tongue. War. This is how monsters fall in love.
She grinds up against my cock.
I groan, low, guttural, the kind of sound you make when you finally touch what’s been haunting you. There’s no foreplay. No pretense. Just raw hunger and the need to bury myself inside her before I fucking lose it.
Her skirt’s already rucked up when I grab her thighs and lift her. She locks around my waist like a fucking vise, breath sweet and wicked against my neck.
“Been soaked since you sent that message,” she purrs, biting my earlobe. “My pussy’s aching for your cock.”
I stumble us toward the bed, drop her, flip her like a doll, shove her face-down across the mattress, and yank her panties to her knees. They’re soaked. The kind of wet that makes me see red.
“Jesus Christ, Delilah,” I snarl, dragging two fingers through the mess between her thighs. “You this fucking messy for me?”
“You like it,” she sings, breathless. “You’re gonna wreck me now, right? Split me open like you promised?”
“I should,” I hiss. “I should fuck you so deep you forget how to smile like that.”
She looks back over her shoulder, lip between her teeth. “Then do it.”
I snatch the glove from her, dangle it in front of her mouth like bait.
“You want this?” I ask.
She nods, trembling.
“Open.”
She parts her lips like a sinner at communion, and I stuff it in her mouth. One soft, wet reminder of every filthy thought she had while she played with it.
“You fucked yourself with this,” I growl, voice shaking. “Now you gag on it while I fuck you for real.”
Her eyes flutter shut as I drag the head of my cock through her slick. I don’t tease. Don’t ask again. I slam into her in one brutal, claiming thrust.
She jolts like I shocked her, muffled scream caught behind leather and lust.
I fuck her like I hate her. Like I want to break her open and crawl inside. My fingers bruise into her hips as I pound her hard, fast, relentless. The slap of my hips against her ass is lewd, a wet, punishing rhythm.
“You think you can wind me up like a toy,” I bite out, hips slamming into hers. “You think this pussy’s a weapon.”
She lets out this muffled, wrecked whimper around the glove, bucking back into me, ravenous little slut.
“You’re right,” I say.
I lean over her, pin her flat with my weight, one hand curling around her throat, the other sliding down to rub her clit.
She jerks under me, hips stuttering, her clit so swollen it throbs under my thumb. I rub circles just shy of cruel, dragging every cry out of her lungs.
“Touched my shit. Broke into my life,” I whisper into her hair. “You opened a door you can’t close, princess. Now I own you. Every fucking inch.”
She shudders. My fingers don’t stop.
