Page 64 of Sinful Pleasure

And there he was.

Maddox towered over me, his dark, piercing eyes locking onto mine through the reflection. His belt hung loose, his pants unfastened, teasing what was to come. His shirt clung to his flexed muscles, a stark contrast to my disheveled state—half-naked, flushed, and helplessly exposed before him.

“Eyes on me, Allyn,” he commanded, his voice dark and possessive.

Without breaking our locked gaze, he reached down and tore my thong away, the sound of ripping fabric echoing through the room. The discarded scrap fell to the floor, forgotten.

“I want you to watch me,” he murmured, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he kicked his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself.

“Watch me as I fuck you.”

I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to.

The intensity in his eyes held me captive, a promise of both pleasure and punishment in every movement. My chest rose and fell rapidly as his fingers traced a slow path down my spine, his touch igniting every nerve.

And then I saw him in the mirror—completely unrestrained, his body a perfect storm of power and desire.

Oh. My. God.

How in the world was this going to fit?

His size was overwhelming, every inch of him hard and imposing. Everything about Maddox King was larger than life, and this was no exception.

It was almost unfair how captivating he looked—rolling a condom down his thick length with practiced ease, his dark hair falling over his forehead, lips parted in concentration.

I couldn’t look away, utterly mesmerized.When he moved closer, the tip of his cock brushed against my entrance, sliding up and down my folds in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamned wet.”

His hand gripped my hip, holding me firmly in place. The other guided his cock along my slit, spreading my wetness with deliberate intent. My heart pounded in my chest with each stroke.

I arched my back, desperate and breathless. “Please,” I whimpered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Through the mirror, his dark eyes met mine, a wicked smirk curving his lips.

“Please what, Allyn?” he asked, his tone mocking yet intoxicating.

“I want you,” I managed, my voice a broken whisper. “I want you inside me.”

His smirk deepened as he continued rubbing his tip against me, my body involuntarily jerking with every touch.

“I like it when you beg.”

And then, without warning, he thrust into me in one hard stroke.

The sound that tore from my throat was part cry, part moan. My nails digging into the silky sheets beneath me.

He didn’t stop, pushing deeper, filling me in ways I hadn’t thought possible. My walls stretched to accommodate him, the intensity of the sensation leaving me gasping for air.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers tightening on my hip as he buried himself deeper. “You’re so fucking tight.”

I clung to the sheets, overwhelmed by the sheer fullness, my body trembling with the effort to take him. Each inch was a new challenge, a mix of pleasure and exquisite torment that had my head spinning.

And through it all, his gaze never left mine in the mirror, his dark eyes locked on my reflection as he claimed every inch of me.

As his hands gripped my hips, he pulled me down onto him just as he thrust upward, the force making our bodies connect in a way that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through me. My pussy stretched around him, slick and welcoming, until every inch of him was buried inside me.

“Damn it,” he rasped, his head falling back, eyes closed, pure bliss etched across his features. “You feel so fucking good.”

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