Page 73 of Surfer's Paradise

“You’ve always been mine,” he continued, dragging his lips down her spine, making her shiver. “We both fucking know it.”

Her breath caught.

“Tell me,” he demanded, slamming his cock into her at a ravenous pace, making her shake in his grasp.

She cried out, half-gone, half-ruined. He could tell she was on the verge of screaming. He wanted her there.

Whatever thin thread of control he had left—snapped.

He was fucking feral, driving into her so hard the bed slammed against the wall, so deep she could do nothing but take it, so raw and unhinged that he didn’t care about anything but owning her, keeping her, making sure she knew exactly who the fuck she belonged to.

Rosie was a wreck beneath him.

Face down, back arched, knees barely holding her up, her fingers twisted in the sheets like she was desperately holding onto reality.

But Isaac didn’t want her in reality.

He wanted her here, in this moment, in his bed, in his hands, losing herself for him and only him.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her up, flush against his chest, one arm banded tight across her stomach, holding her in place as he slammed into her.

Her head dropped back against his shoulder, her mouth falling open, her body quivering with every deep, punishing thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered into her ear, his voice dark, rough, raw. “Fucking take it. Take me.”

She gasped, whimpered, moaned, lost in the relentless rhythm of his body driving into hers.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her throat, biting down, leaving marks, staking a claim.

She shuddered, nails digging into his arms, back arching, thighs squeezing.

“Say it again,” he ordered, his grip tightening on her hips, his thrusts going brutal, deep, relentless.

“Yours,” she gasped.

“Louder.”

“Yours, Isaac!” she cried out, voice breaking, body shaking.

And fuck, that did it.

His cock throbbed, his control fucking shattered, his body tightening as he pounded into her one last time.

She screamed his name, her whole body clenching so fucking tight around him, pulsing, gripping, dragging him down with her.

Isaac gritted his teeth, groaning deep and guttural as he came, his body jerking, his release spilling deep inside her.

His arms locked around her, holding her against him, his breath ragged, sharp, unsteady.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, the aftershocks of pleasure wracking their bodies, the smell of sweat and sex thick in the air.

Rosie was shaking, silent, still trying to catch her breath, her head dropped forward.

Isaac kissed the back of her neck lazily, his grip loosening just slightly, letting her body relax against his.

He smirked, pressing one last slow, claiming kiss to her shoulder as he laid her down.

“Good girl,” he muttered, a satisfied, cocky rasp.

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