Before I could come down, he rose from the water like some beautiful, wrathful god, the planes of his chest glistening as hestood to his full, imposing height. His cock jutted out from his body, thick, hard, and angry red.
“I want you to remember how this feels,” he said darkly, grabbing my waist. “So when you wake up aching, you’ll wonder how you ever thought I was just a fantasy.”
He lifted me easily, like I weighed nothing, and impaled me on him in one savage, unforgiving thrust.
No warning. No easing in.
Just thick, full, and all-consuming.
I exploded, screaming his name into the night. My body convulsed around him, every nerve on fire.
He didn’t stop.
His thrusts were relentless, brutal. His hand on my ass moved me on his cock, forcing me to take him deeper. My nipples dragged across his chest, sending more sparks through me.
I screamed. My head fell back. Every muscle in my body locked down as he filled me; deep, hard, perfect.
Vareck hissed through his teeth, holding still, buried to the hilt. “You’re so godsdamn tight,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect.”
“Move,” I gasped, nails scoring his shoulders. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
He did.
He fucked me like it was his mission. Like this dream was the only place he could ever touch me, and he was going to make it count. Every thrust rocked my body, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the quiet, mist-laced air. The water churned around us as he drove into me over and over.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on as he claimed me. His hand slid down, cupped my ass, lifted and dropped me onto his cock like he knew it would wreck me further. And fuck, I loved it. I loved every brutal second of it.
“I can feel you clenching,” he growled, lips brushing my ear. “You gonna come for me again, Meera?”
“Yes—fuck, yes—don’t stop,” I cried out.
He reached between us, thumb finding my clit, circling it with ruthless precision.
Harder than the first time, I went over the edge. I convulsed around him, crying out his name, trembling as my orgasm tore through me like wildfire.
He didn’t stop.
He pulled out, turned me around, and bent me over the ledge, my hands bracing on the stone. His hand fisted in my hair, yanked my head back, and then he slammed into me from behind.
I sobbed with pleasure, legs shaking, the position deeper, rougher. His other hand slipped around my waist, fingers sliding down and finding my clit again, tormenting it as he thrust harder and faster.
“You feel that?” he snarled. “That’s mine. This body, this pussy, this dream—it’s all mine.”
I was incoherent—gasping, whimpering, shattering again as he pushed me into a third orgasm with ruthless efficiency. My body was nothing but sensation, a vessel for the overwhelming, soul-deep pleasure he dragged out of me.
And then I felt it.
The shift. The unmistakable heat blooming low in my belly as his rhythm faltered, as his breath hitched against my neck.
He was close.
“I want to come with you,” he panted. “One more, Meera. Give me one more.”
I moaned his name, pushed back against him. Then his fangs pierced my neck.
White-hot ecstasy exploded through me. I shattered around him again, screaming. My legs locked tight as he fucked me harder, chasing his own climax.
But it still wasn’t enough.
