Page 33 of Desperate Measures

“You’re mine now, Sweetheart,” I whispered, biting her skin as I pounded inside her warm, soft flesh, harder and faster.

Michaela’s whimpers grew louder. Her nails scratched and her legs wrapped around me, like she was trying to get me deeper.

She twitched. Her breathing grew rough.

“Oh God,” she moaned.

“You close? Tell me,” I demanded.

Her pussy squeezed, strangling my cock.

Michaela was panting. She clutched my hips with her small hands. I knew she was almost there.

“Tell me,” I repeated, reaching between us to slide my fingers over her tight, slick little clit.

Then her entire body convulsed around mine as pleasure rolled through her.

“I-I’m coming. Liam. Oh, Liam,” she moaned my name.

“Good girl. That’s right. I got you,” I said roughly, wrapping my arms around her body and squeezing her tighter as she chased her pleasure.

Something broke open inside of me as I took her in, watching greedily as a look of pure bliss washed over her soft features.

It was like years of waiting of forcing myself to be indifferent had been hidden behind an invisible dam, and that fucking thing just blew apart.

It shouldn’t have been like that.

I should have just fucked her and left it alone. But I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to.

“Again,” I grunted, letting go of her and rising to my knees.

“What? I can’t—” she tried to argue, but I knew she was wrong.

I rocked my hips, sliding my fingers over her swollen little nubbin.

“Yeah, you can. You will. Trust me,” I murmured, wanting her to do just that.

Pleasure built inside my balls, and I watched her hungrily, noting everything she liked. And I never stopped touching her. I kept on rubbing her clit as I lifted her legs onto my shoulders.

I turned my head, licking the smooth skin on her calf as I kept on fucking her. She squeezed my cock so good. Her tight little cunt stretched to accommodate me, and I told her what a good girl she was for taking all of me.

“Tell me how you feel,” I demanded, unable to get enough of this woman.

Her soft moans.

Her willing body.

That fucking lilac scent.

The way she tasted.

I wanted it all. I committed it all to memory.

She felt heavy. Important. And I wanted her to feel the same about me.

Fuck. I was fucked.

I wanted her to feel this claiming brand like I felt it.

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