Page 22 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

"Are you going to be a good boy and follow the rules?" I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.

A growl rumbles deep in Theo's chest, his eyes flashing with primal hunger. In an instant, he's on me, tackling me back into the couch cushions. His face buries in my neck, hot breath fanning across my skin as he pushes himself inside me in one swift thrust.

I gasp, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Theo doesn't even take time to get fully situated—one knee up on the couch, one foot planted on the floor—before he starts moving. The position is awkward, but the friction is delicious.

"God, Skylark," he groans, voice muffled against my throat. "You feel incredible."

"Deeper," I demand, arching my back to change the angle. "I need you deeper."

Theo obliges, shifting his hips to drive into me with renewed vigor. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure radiating through my body.

"Harder," I pant, digging my nails into his shoulders. "Don't hold back."

He bites down on my shoulder, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but enough to send a jolt of exquisite pain-pleasure straight to my core. His hips snap forward with increased force, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

Just as I'm nearing the edge again, Theo suddenly pulls out. Before I can protest, he flips me over, manhandling me onto my hands and knees. I barely have time to catch my breath before he's plunging back inside, somehow even deeper than before.

"Fuck," I moan, dropping my head between my arms. "Just like that, don't stop."

"Still like it rough?" Theo's voice is husky, laced with a hint of challenge.

I manage a shaky nod, my body trembling with need. I can't fully suppress my next moan as Theo hits that perfect spot inside me. My thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, leaving me unable to form coherent words.

"Good," he growls, his approval sending a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, his hand tangles in my hair, gripping tightly but not painfully. His other hand finds my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. The dual sensations ground me, heightening every nerve ending.

Theo starts moving again, but this time it's different. Gone is any semblance of gentleness or restraint. He fucks me like a man possessed, each thrust deep and brutally hard. The pace is punishing, bordering on feral.

I gasp, struggling to catch my breath. "Oh God, Theo..."

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, I feel pressure between my shoulder blades as he pushes me down. My chest and stomach press into the couch cushions, changing the angle once more. The new position leaves me completely at his mercy, and a thrill runs through me at the realization.

Theo keeps up his relentless pace, never faltering. His lips find the nape of my neck, pressing heated kisses there before trailing down my spine. Each brush of his lips is punctuated by a particularly deep thrust, making me whimper.

"You're perfect," he murmurs against my skin. "So fucking perfect."

I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensations. For this moment, nothing else matters—not our complicated history, not my new job, not the mess we're undoubtedly creating. There's only Theo, me, and the fire building between us.

"Mine. Say you're mine," he growls, his voice low and guttural, filled with a primal need I've never heard from him before.

"Theo..." I whimper, arching my back to meet his thrusts.

"You've always been mine," he responds, slowing his movements to a torturous pace. “Say it, baby.”

I can't help it; I whine in frustration.

That earns me a stinging slap on my ass. Electricity radiates from the point of impact, fueling the inferno building inside me.

"Say it."

"F-fuck you," I manage through clenched teeth, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Another smack, this time harder. My backside burns, but my core clenches around him, desperate for more.

"That's right, baby," he pants, and then he's fucking me again, driving us both to the edge of sanity.

"Theo," I pant, my orgasm barreling down on me like a freight train.

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