Page 40 of Into Her Fantasies

Please fuck me. The real way.But that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I already knew it, sure as the dark control in his gaze and the merciless lock of his hold. That wasn’t my call to make right now—and I adored him for it. Might even, in a little while, thank him for it. Right now, I only wanted to seethe at him for it, so I did. The bastard only smirked, relishing every second of my frustration.

“Make my clit come.” Fine. If he wanted begging, I’d give him begging. “I—I need to come.”

Finally,he shoved his straining bulge back against me. As our bodies slammed, I burst with a rickety moan. He joined me. His thrusts intensified, though his execution turned as rocky as our breaths. He was driven in need but unthinking in form, like a starving beast given a virgin to devour…and deflower. His face was lost in passion, white teeth clenched, noble forehead pursed, as he concentrated on each hard, sliding stroke.

“Beg me again,” he ordered. “Beg me…respectfully.”

I shivered in force. Dissolved in full.

Suddenly, the direct hack at my fantasies didn’t feel like so much of a joke.

How did he know?

How the hell did he know what I’d craved for so long? All the dirty, depraved detail of it? And yet, how did he know how to make it all so sound magnificent, so regal…

So exactly like everything he’d craved too?

And at this moment, did I even care?

“Please, Sir. I’m begging you. Please, please make me come.”

I had my answer as soon as I gave him his “respect”. I didn’t give a crap how he knew, only that he did—and knew exactly what to do with all of it.

“Make you come…how?”

Yeah. Knew exactly what to do…

Just

like

that.

“With—with your cock.”

“Slamming at your pussy, like this?”

“Yes.” Shaking gasp. “Yes please. Slamming at my pussy.”

“Even if I rub it raw?”

“Yes. Even if you—oh, God!”

“Lucina?”

“Yes, dammit. Even if you—shit!”

He rammed harder, making me cry out—and expose myself more. Dammit, he was doing it. Yanking out the Lucy so few had seen, shaking with need, weak with wanting, naked with vulnerability. She looked up at him, was even reflected to me in the bold, blue flames of his eyes—and I silently screamed at her to retreat, to come back inside where it was safe, but the pain made that impossible. It demanded I stay right here, present and aware and marveling at every magical move he made. My bruised pussy demanded I feel every thrust of this fuck—and in a blinding, dazzling burst of lightning, every force of my climax.

Before my scream could hit the air, he devoured the sound with his lips. I emptied my elation into him, surrendering every sated moan and desperate cry, intensifying when he began answering with violent groans of his own—corresponding to the desperate, urgent thrusts of his body. I dragged my eyes open in time to view his passion in full glory, pinching his forehead and clenching his jaw, before it drained into a dazed kind of peace.

He expelled a long breath.

I inhaled a wistful sigh.

Then again. And again.

Then more silent synchronicity.

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