Page 66 of Captured Heart

“I want...” I pant. “I want you inside me.”

“Not like that,” he whispers against my lips. “Say, Alex...I want you to fuck me.”

My eyes widen slightly. I don’t talk like that, but he clearly wants to push me so far out of my comfort zone that I become unrecognizable to myself.

He notices my hesitation and tightens his grip around my throat. “Say it.”

“Alex...I want you to fuck me.”

It’s a breathless, aching whimper, and I get a low growl of satisfaction in return. He enters me with one powerful thrust, slamming in right to the hilt. The sheer brute force of it leaves me gasping.

Something about the way his body stiffens, the way he shuts his eyes and tries to breathe through the feeling of being inside me, sends me over the edge. It’s such a turn-on to see him lost in ecstasy like that, to know I have that kind of effect on him. He bites into my shoulder to steady himself. I need a moment, too. He’s so thick I have to shift my hips to ease the discomfort.

When he’s recomposed, he lifts his head and gently strokes my hair off my damp forehead. “Did I ever tell you that I love the sound of my name on your lips?”

Even in my lust-filled haze, confusion creeps in. I thought his name was John Turner, yet the sincerity in his voice makes it sound like his nameisAlex.

I don’t get a chance to overthink it. His hips start to rock, and I’m instantly flung into a storm, a cataclysmic, devastating storm. He kisses me again, and the moment our lips meet, all the pent-up aggression that was simmering between us unleashes.

Alex kisses me with the same urgent hunger that leaves no space for restraint. His mouth crashes against mine as he claims my lips and my body at the same time. The air between us sizzles with an intensity that feels alive, electric, a violent collision of emotions too fierce to contain.

His hand tangles in my hair. His ragged breaths mingle with mine as though he hadn’t expected the sheer ferocity of my response. I can feel his heartbeat pounding against my chest, frantic and wild, mirroring the erratic rhythm of my own.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer as if proximity could somehow quell the tempest brewing in this dingy warehouse. But it doesn’t. It only fuels the storm, pulling us deeper into its chaos.

I’m so close, and I just want him to topple me over the edge. But he’s still doing the same thing, taking me right to that point before he slows down.

“Alex,” I hiss through gritted teeth, not even trying to hide my frustration.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You know,” I pant.

“I do...but ask me nicely. Say, Alex...please make me cum.”

I offer no resistance this time. I’ve recently discovered that I’m not above begging. “Alex, please...pleasemake me cum.”

His thrusts become harder, rougher. Each slap of his hips is a thunderclap, deep and resounding, shaking me to my very core. Damp and desperate, the smell of sweat and whiskey fills the room, our bodies overheating as he pounds into me.

The bed creaks, the legs screeching as they scrape against the concrete floor. The noise is exacerbated by the metal chain of my cuffs rattling against the bedframe, piercing clangs that echo through the room. His hands glide over mine and onto the bedframe to dull the sound.

Tightly gripping the metal bars, he uses it as leverage to shove himself deeper inside me. That’s all it takes. I burst, seeing a million stars as the world swirls around me. I moan loudly as an orgasm shudders through my body. His mouth slams on mine to keep me quiet, and he swallows every rapturous cry I release.He slows his pace and rides out the last waves of pleasure with me.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Your pussy is throbbing around me, and...aaah...I’m gonna cum.”

Without warning, he withdraws. He wraps his hand around his cock, gritting his teeth as he pumps. He shuts his eyes as he climaxes, hot liquid spilling over his hand and onto my stomach. A moment later, he collapses on top of me, heaving, his harsh breaths hot on my skin.

I don’t know what I just witnessed, but I’m in shock for a second or two. Shocked...and oddly aroused.

“You know,” I say, still trying to make sense of what happened. “I have an IUD...so that wasn’t really necessary.”

His head snaps up to look at me. He’s bewildered, staring at me with questioning eyes, so I help him figure it out.

“It’s...a little unsanitary, don’t you think?”

Amusement slowly replaces his confusion, and then he smiles.

It’s small at first, tentative, like he’s not entirely sure how to do it. But it grows, stretching across his face and softening every sharp edge. His stormy gray eyes, so often filled with intensity and shadows, light up in the cutest way. The harshness I’ve always seen is replaced with tenderness, and it’s so disarming I can’t look away.

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