I slide a hand through the back of her hair and clench, dragging her head to the side to bare the curve of her neck.
“You’re living up to the name, trouble,” I murmur against her skin, my teeth scraping over goosebumps. “Now beg. Tell me how badly you want to be wrecked.”
I tighten my grip, my other hand halting her hips, a firm reminder of who’s in control here.
“Please, stalker boy… fuck myfuckingbrains out.”
“Such a good girl,” I growl, driving into her just enough to steal the breath from her lips—but she won’t be taking the reins. Not tonight.
I grab her right leg and swing it over my body, twisting her until she’s facing away, still full of me. Then I lift. We rise together, one motion, and I slam her down into the bed, folding her forward until her chest kisses the mattress, her hands splayed beside her head.
“If your hands move, you get spanked. Understood?”
She nods—but that’s not good enough. Her moan slips out as I drive into her, deep and unforgiving, until I’m pressing against her cervix.
“Words, Nell,” I growl. “Use your fucking words.”
“I understand,” she gasps.
“Good.”
My hand spans her back, broad and possessive. When I press down, she arches beautifully, folding into my control. Her palms stay glued to the sheets, but her body moves with mine, like she knows exactly what I want—and she’s eager to give it.
The first few thrusts catch her off guard, and instinctively she reaches out, grasping for anything to anchor herself.
“What did I say, Nell?” I snap, catching her eyes beneath those absurdly long lashes.
“I’m sorry, I was just—”
“No excuses.”
I align my palm with her ass, and with a sharp, unforgivingthwack, it connects. The sting lingers in my hand—I know she felt that.
She whimpers, eyes squeezed shut, but she doesn’t pull away.
She just clenches the sheets like they’re her salvation.
“Do it again?” she breathes, voice silky with need—it takes me a beat to register her words.
I don’t hesitate.
I line my hand over the heat of the mark I last left and bring it down, hard. The slap echoes, sharp and deliberate.
Her eyes snap wide. Her lips part. Another moan spills from her like it was dragged out.
“You like the sting, don’t you, trouble?” I taunt, voice low. “You like it when I paint your pretty ass crimson?”
“Yes,” she breathes, grinding back into me, chasing her own climax with stunning precision.
Christ, this woman is something else.
My mind is a storm of the ways I want to ruin her—every delicious form of pain she’ll twist into pleasure. She’s perfect. And she wants this just as fiercely as I do.
I spread her ass, needing to see the way she clings to me, greedy and wet with every thrust. She’s so damn tight I have to slow, pacing myself before the edge tips too fast.
I’ve got shit waiting for me outside this room—but right now? Right now, I want this to last. I want every second stretched until it burns.
She wraps around me like she was made for me. Every curve, every freckle—mine to explore. Mine to memorise.
