Page 90 of When Hearts Collide

I can’t think. I can barely form words. My mouth is muffled against the grass, and all I can manage is a raspy, “Yes. Ryland. Yes.”

He lets out a guttural groan as his hand leaves my aching breast and curls around my neck. Then, with his other hand, he widens my legs even more and nothing can prepare me for the sensation of his steel rod slamming inside me in one full stroke.

I mewl as his hard cock spears me in half. There’s no finesse, no soft touches or gentle caresses. This is a rough claiming, a hunter who has captured his prey, dominating her, having his way with her. I moan against the ground as my body widens to accept him, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a heady cocktail.

“Fuck, your pussy is sopping wet for me,” he groans as he retreats before slamming in again. His hand holds steady around my neck, his fingers pressing into the tender flesh, like he’s marking me, telling me who’s in control. “You need this. Just like I do.”

I arch under him as he pistons inside me, his thrusts picking up in speed. My knees scrape against the pebbles on the floor and I’m sure I’ll have scratches and bruises later, but I don’t care. Every nerve ending is in tune with the man behind me and the pleasure he’s wreaking on my body.

“Mine. You’re fucking mine. Remember that,” he rasps, his voice violent and intense.

His words send me into a tailspin, and I grow wetter between my legs.

He completely overpowers me, his hand controlling my breathing, his body restricting my movements. All I can do is just lie underneath him and take it. Take each harsh, punishing stab, accept the sharp pleasure he’s giving me stroke by stroke, thrust by thrust.

For the first time in my life, I’m not in control of anything. Not my emotions, not the feelings I show on my face. I don’t have to worry about taking care of the people around me or putting on a brave face. I’m a marionette, and he’s my puppet master.

Ryland is wrenching everything away from my mind—guilt, worries, doubts, fears—everything ceases to exist other than him and the way he’s pistoning inside me, ramming his hard cock in to bury himself deep in me, each stroke hitting the sensitive spot no one has ever reached before.

“No one else gets to fuck this tight little pussy, you hear me?”

I whimper, my body bucking against him, and he growls. “You hear me, Millie?” His cock thrusts deeper, harder and I let out a scream.

“Y-Yes…I’m yours.”

“Fucking yes.” His motions grow wilder, and I can feel his unwavering focus on my reactions, moans, screams, and whimpers, every movement from him driving me out of my mind with pleasure.

Heat builds in my pussy, and I dig my fingers into the grass, trying to get away from the overwhelming, mind-blowing pleasure. He bears down on me harder, forcing me to accept him, his grunts loud in the darkness. He’s an animal rutting in heat.

My moans and screams join the lurid slapping of skin against skin, and a thousand sensations coalesce at our point of connection. My legs throb and tremble, my nipples as hard as diamonds, raking across the rough earth with each slam of his hips on top of me, the scraping adding onto the firestorm brewing and incinerating my insides.

As if sensing I’m close, he tightens his grip around my neck, so I have to fight for each breath. My mind feels hazy, my vision blurry, and every cell in my body is focused on the throbbing building between my legs as my lungs clamor for air.

“Fuck. Take it, Millie. You’re taking me so fucking well. You’re so fucking perfect. I’ve dreamed of this and nothing compares to reality. Feel how fucking hard I am for you.”

Dirty words spew out of him and I barely register them as my body floats to the precipice between heaven and hell, the pleasure so painful and addictive at the same time.

“Your cunt is clamping down on my hard cock like it can’t get enough.”

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Sweat trickles down my body.

My entire body starts spasming. I’m so close, so damn close. I can see nirvana ahead.

“Milk my cock, you naughty little girl. Come on my cock like my good student.” He releases my throat, his fingers reaching down my body and pinching my clit.

I detonate.

My scream echoes amongst the trees as my body splinters into a million pieces, the pleasure overtaking all my senses like an inferno. My lungs rake in greedy gulps of oxygen, the sudden flooding of air prolonging my high, making every sensation one thousand times more visceral.

With a few more punishing thrusts, he slams his body on top of mine and a guttural groan tears from his lips. I feel his cock pulse inside me, unleashing streams of hot cum, sending me into another spiral of pleasure.

The loud sounds of our breathing blend and slowly, he clasps my hand in his, twining our fingers together as the pleasure bleeds out from our pores. He is still on top of me, covering me from behind, his hips gently moving, prolonging our connection, and I don’t feel like I’m suffocating underneath him.

I feel treasured. Protected. Safe. I can let go with him and he’ll take care of me.

He’s still my professor and I’m still his much younger student. Everything is still wrong and yet…nothing has ever felt so very right.

How can we walk away from this?

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