Page 113 of Wicked Serve

I obey shakily. His index finger slides all the way up my ass. I can’t help myself; I add another to my core. Filled in both holes, his body pressing against mine, all while we look at our reflections... I feel like I’m on fire, but the flames aren’t burning me. They’re teasing, dragging me to the edge of oblivion.

“Nik,” I sob. “It feels—I need more—”

“So greedy,” he croons. “Keep going. Make a mess for me.”

He pushes another finger into me. The punishing vibrations from the toy, the dominance in his voice—it all works together to send me right to the peak. I curl my fingers, biting down my scream as the pleasure finally, finally crescendos. The tension leaves my body in a blissful rush.

I don’t recall starting to cry, but when I blink, a tear streaks down my cheek. He turns my head, his fingers digging into my jaw, and licks it away. The blatant possessiveness makes me whimper.

“Look at yourself. Stuffed in both holes. Dripping with slick.” He sucks a mark into my neck as he clicks off the vibrator. “Wearing my number. You’re a wreck, Isabelle. A beautiful wreck. Who do you belong to?”

“You.” My voice breaks. “Babe, please.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

A light slap. “Where?”

“My ass,” I stutter out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs into my ear. “Lean against the mirror.”

I put both hands on the mirror, shivering as he preps me the rest of the way. He gives his cock a stroke, groaning, before he rolls on the condom and adds more lubricant. He wraps his arm around me, rucking up the sweater.

Our gazes meet through the mirror.

“I’m going to go slowly,” he says. “If you need me to slow down even more, or stop, you tell me. Understand?”

I nod, then add, “Yes.”

“Good.” He lines up, pressing against my asshole. I gasp at the sensation of the blunt tip there, so different than when he’s sliding into my cunt. “Stay relaxed for me, sunshine. Let me in.”

He pushes in inch by inch, rubbing my clit to spark another round of pleasure. I ache at the stretch, but not in a bad way. When he finally presses in completely, he lets out a breath, dropping his head to the crook of my shoulder. I clench my core as I adjust; it’s as though he’s splitting me open. As he kisses my neck, scraping his teeth over my skin, a strange sensation settles in my belly.

I’ve never felt so owned by him. So completely his. It’s raw, it’s dirty, and somehow, my heart feels more exposed than the rest of me.

“You’re so big,” I murmur.

“And you’re so goddamn tight.”

He cups my pussy, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. He moves, achingly slow, clearly attuned to any signs of discomfort. I will myself to relax further. The sensations ramp up with each careful thrust.

“You can give me more.” I look at him over my shoulder. “Take your pleasure too, Nik. It’s important, right?”

He thrusts harder at my teasing words. “Such a little brat.”

I spread my legs as wide as I can while keeping my balance, arching my back. The angle deepens, making both of us moan. He thrusts harder, building up an undulating rhythm so consuming, I can’t breathe when he’s inside me all the way. He steadies himself with a hand on my hip, fingers digging into my skin. His other hand covers my throat lightly.

I gasp, heart sprinting. The weight of it settles me, even as it ignites each and every one of my nerve endings. It’s one thing to feel it, but another to see it through the mirror. His hand, so large it nearly wraps around all the way, and my leather bracelet on his wrist.

“Look at us.” He gives my throat the barest squeeze, punctuating it with a much harder thrust. “We were made for each other, Isabelle.”

“Nik,” I whisper, emotion crashing over me in a wave. I can’t manage anything else.

He doesn’t drop his hand, but he doesn’t let the pressure linger. Careful and protective, even when he’s pushing me. He snaps his hips, driving his cock into me. The sensations bleed together, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. When I come again, it’s with a scream. I hope—hazily—that we’re still the only ones in the house.

Nik practically growls, driving into me once, twice, three more times. He grunts against my shoulder as he climaxes, sounding so perfectly strung-out, I smile. Nothing is better than the sound of his satisfaction.

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