Page 51 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

“Yes,” I whisper, voice breaking.

His smirk deepens, but I see the barely contained hunger in his posture.

"Faster," he orders, voice dark, rough. “Make yourself come for me.”

I whimper, obeying.

My hips shift against my own touch, the pleasure building too fast, too intense.

Dominic smirks, but his gaze is darker now.

"Now imagine my tongue on you," he says, his voice a low, sinful promise. "Licking and sucking on your clit while you ride my face."

A broken moan rips from my throat.

Fuck.

I can’t breathe.

The thought of Dominic between my legs, his mouth on me, his fingers sinking deep inside me—

I arch against the seat, desperate, needy.

“Imagine me turning you over,” he murmurs, voice laced with sin. “Spreading you wide. Fucking you hard.”

I gasp, my fingers moving frantically now, pushing me closer, closer—

“Say it,” he commands. “Tell me you want my cock inside you.”

A ragged moan escapes me.

“I want you, Dominic.” My voice is a breathless plea. “I need you.”

He groans softly, shifting in his seat, adjusting himself—and I know he’s hard.

I fucking know it.

“You like being my dirty little girl?” he taunts, his voice pure filth.

“Yes,” I gasp, my body aching, desperate, on edge.

I need to come.

“Now,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet and steel. “Come for me, Isabella.”

A strangled cry leaves my lips as my body shatters.

The orgasm rips through me, pleasure crashing in waves, rolling, pulsing, making my thighs tremble, my stomach tighten, my head fall back against the seat.

“Dominic—” His name breaks from me like a prayer.

I hear him curse under his breath.

He exhales harshly, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles go white.

I force my eyes open, my body still pulsing, and find him watching me.

His eyes are dark, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths.

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