Page 98 of Can You Take It?

A light buzzing starts deep inside me, one that doesn’t belong to the way he’s fucking me or the way my fingers are moving inside myself. It feels foreign. I furrow my brows, trying to place the sensation, and then I hear a soft, persistent sound, barely noticeable over the sound of our bodies colliding.

His phone rings.

Of fucking course, it rings at the worst possible time. Right when he's buried so deep inside me, I’m half convinced I’ll never feel normal again. The table’s rattling beneath us, shaking like it’s going to break under the force of him, and I swear, one more thrust and we’ll both be on the floor.

I expect him to ignore it—hell, Ineedhim to ignore it—but instead, his hand leaves my waist, and he fucking reaches for the phone. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he miss a beat, just checks the caller ID like he’s not in the middle of destroying me.

I groan, shifting my hips to draw his focus back to me. But instead of giving me what I want, his hand wraps around my wrist, forcing my fingers deeper inside myself, pressing them harder against his cock as he continues pounding into me.

“Shh,” he growls low in my ear. “Don’t you dare fucking make a sound.”

My breath hitches, caught between the need to cry out and the fire building inside me. I stay silent, barely holding it together as he answers the phone with nothing but his last name.

The voice on the other end is loud enough that I can hear every word. Wilson.

“How’s that off-the-book interrogation going?”

I frown, a part of me snapping back to reality for a split second. Off-the-book? I knew Richard was interrogating me, but hearing Wilson confirm it like this? It should piss me off. It should make me feel used, betrayed even. But fuck, if that doesn’t make me hotter for him. He’s fucking me while following orders to interrogate me? It’s twisted. It’s wrong. And it’s turning me on more than I want to admit.

Richard smirks down at me, thrusting harder, deeper, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. His hand leaves mine only to replace it on my waist.

“Perfect,” he says into the phone. “I’ve got her rightunderme.”

A low, involuntary moan slips out of me, but I swallow it back down. Wilson has no idea what’s happening on this side of the phone, but the words “right under me” send heat shooting straight through me, and I almost lose it. My cheeks burn, not from embarrassment but from the raw, filthy need Richard's dragging out of me.

“Good,” Wilson says. “Keep her there. I need you to rip her apart for everything she’s worth.”

Richard leans down, his lips ghosting over my ear as he whispers into the phone. “Oh, I plan to.”

He hangs up without another word, tossing the phone aside like it doesn’t matter. His hand grips my chin, turning my face toward his. “An order’s an order.”

He slams into me with a brutal force, driving me up the table with the force of it. My body shakes, teetering on the edge of something I’m not ready for but can’t stop. The pressure is overwhelming, the feel of him filling me to the point where I don’t know where he ends and I begin.

“Fuck… you’re going to make me come.”

He leans over me, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re not coming until I say so.”

“God, Richard, please,” I moan, curling my fingers inside me. “I need it. Ican’ttake it.”

His thrusts slow, just enough to tease me. “You’ll take it. You’ll take everything I give you.”

“Richard… please,” I beg. I don’t care if I sound desperate—Iamdesperate. “Fuck me. Please, fuck me harder.”

My fingers are pressing deeper inside me, almost curling around his cock from the inside, and the sensation is so overwhelming it makes me lightheaded.

His grip tightens on my hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and I can practically feel his smirk. He loves this, loves making me beg, loves knowing he’s got me completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he mutters, thrusting slow and deep. “Begging like a good little slut. You like it when I stretch you open, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes,” I gasp. The stretch is delicious and it is making me lose my mind. I’m not even sure how I’m holding on right now.

“I'm going to stretch this pussy out until it's shaped to my cock.”

I’m so close—so fucking close to the edge, but he’s holding back, keeping me there, refusing to let me fall just yet.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he demands. His thrusts get harder, deeper, and I swear I can feel every ridge of his cock as it drags against me, pulling me even closer to the edge.

“You,” I cry out curling my fingers inside me, brushing against that spot that turns my bones to jelly. “It’s yours. Only yours.”

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