Page 32 of Claimed By Rage

“I’ll give youthis—” I roll my hips and moan, grateful for Rage’s punishing grip on my thighs or else I might fall off of him. “—when you take the cuffs off.”

He thrusts, pinning me in place as his dick rubs against my overheated core. Despite the thin barrier between us, I can feel him pulse with need as his desire roars between us.

I came on his fingers on the bathroom counter.

He didn’t come at all.

“I’ll make you come,” I clarify, “but we’re not having sex.”

Rage huffs. “I want to fuck you, Celia, not dry hump you. It won’t work. I can’t come like this. Nice try.”

“Youwillcome,” I insist, grinding my hips and gasping at how fuckinggoodit feels, “because I will.”

He doesn’t sound convinced. “You’ll ride my cock until you come?”

I nod before I realize he can’t see me in the dark. “Yes. But with my underwear on.”

“That’sdryhumping, Celia—it’ll chafe more than anything, and I’ll have blue balls for the rest of the night. The answer is no.”

“You can suck my tits while I do it.”

“Lights on,” he counters, “with kissing.”

“No kissing.”

“It’smyreward for removing the cuffs. Kiss me while you ride me, or there’s no deal.”

I should have known this wouldn’t be as simple as helping him bust a nut before bed.So much for all that powerI supposedly have.But for one, it’ll get the cuffs off. For another, I’ll get to come again, which means I might actually get some sleep. Maybe Rage will, too, if he comes hard enough.

I better put on a damn good show.

“Fine,” I bitterly agree.

While he reaches behind me and undoes the cuffs, he buries his face in my tits and mouths a nipple through my t-shirt. I gasp, my hips jerking, and he groans. “Take this off,” he orders, turning on the bedside lamp in the next instant, “and ride me, beautiful.”

My shoulders scream when I pull my arms back to the front, but I don’t linger on the pain. I lift my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor, rolling my hips once to test our connection.

Rage palms my bare tit but keeps his eyes on my face. I know what he wants, and it kills me to give it to him. I delay the inevitable, building into a rhythm that makes my breath catch and my body flushhot.Unbearably hot. Our desire flows like water between the two of us, drenching us both where our bodies meet.

As my pleasure mounts, I imagine what if would feel like to sink on top of him. How full I would be. How hot and slick andperfectit could be. I grip Rage’s shoulders tightly, using him as an anchor. I’m so turned on that ithurts. It shouldn’t feel this way—heshouldn’t make me feel this way.

I can’t want to fuck the man I hate.

When I make no move to kiss him, Rage takes over, growling as he drags my face down to meet his. Our lips crash in a tangleof teeth and tongue, both of us moaning and thrusting in time with each other. Rage’s tongue slips inside my mouth as he punches his hips up, slamming the tip of his cock against my clit and making me see stars. I drag in a lungful of air and he groans, nipping my earlobe. “I can feel you,krosotka, so fucking wet, drenching my cock in your sweetness.” He attacks my mouth again, biting my lip, seeking dominance.

The pain mixes with the pleasure. I’m too far gone to care, digging my nails into his skin, jerking my hips in tiny, short bursts to maximize the pressure and heat on my clit.

Sex would be better, but this is pretty fucking close.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” I clench my eyes shut as I explode, crying out as both pleasure and pain ricochet through my body. Rage grabs my hips and slams me down, shoving an inch of his cock between my lips, forcing his way inside. His cock pulses, each hot burst filling my underwear with nowhere else to go. I feel the wet heat as if it were my own, already soaking between my thighs. Trembling, I hold onto Rage until my orgasm wanes, barely registering that I’m still twitching my hips in time with his thrusts.

He lays back onto the mattress and drags me with him, burying his hand in my hair and holding me tight against his chest. I can feel his hammering heart, then the laugh rumbling around his ribs. “You proved me wrong,” he murmurs, gently scratching my scalp. “Feel free to do that again. I could go for another round.”

Somehow, I think he still came out on top, in the end. It rattles my confidence, crashing my high. I let him caress my sides, my hips, and my back for a few moments before rolling off of him and hopping out of the bed to search for a fresh pair of boxers. I change in record time, finding the t-shirt on the floor and whipping it over my head. The boxers make me wish for a shower for the second time tonight.

Rage watches me the entire time. His smile is cat-like, wicked and triumphant. “You should sleep naked.”

I scoff. There’s no way in hell that’s happening.

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