Page 112 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
I position myself between her legs spread wide on the counter. Lifting one of her thighs higher, hooking her leg securely over my arm, tilting her hips for deeper access.
My cock head presses against her entrance. She’s so fucking hot. So ready.
I look into her eyes, seeing the anticipation, the surrender.
“Hold onto me,” I command.
Then I thrust into her. Hard. Deep. Burying myself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful motion.
“Christopher!” She screams my name, her nails digging into my back. The feeling of her tight, wet heat clenching around my cock is pure fucking agony and ecstasy.
I don’t give her time to adjust. I start moving immediately. Fast. Hard. Brutal. Each thrust is deliberate. Controlled. Driving into her again and again, slamming her back against the counter’s edge. This isn’t finesse. This isn’t seduction. This is raw need. Possession.
The reassertion of my dominance over my world, over my emotions, by dominating her body.
“Fuck, Christopher!” she gasps out, her head thrown back. “Fuck me fuck me fuck me!”
“Look at me,” I order, gripping her hips.
She forces her gaze to mine. Her eyes are unfocused, her pupils blown wide.
“Watch me fuck you, Lucy.”
Her breath comes in ragged sobs. I change theangle slightly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes her shatter. Her inner muscles clench violently around my cock, nearly sending me over the edge. But I hold back.
Control.
Always control.
“Tell me what you feel,” I demand, maintaining the relentless pace.
“Hard… deep… please…” she gasps, incoherent.
“Pleasewhat?” I growl, thrusting harder, faster. “Tell me.”
“Please don’t stop!”
I give her what she wants. What I need. I fuck her like she’s the only thing anchoring me, the only release valve for the pressure building inside.
Each thrust is a statement.
Mine.
Control.
Power.
Her moans fill the kitchen, echoing off the cold steel appliances.
It’s the only sound I want to hear.
Ever hear.
I feel her climax building, her body trembling under my assault. I push her right to the edge, then hold her there, letting the tension build until she’s begging.
“Please Christopher please please...” she gasps.
“Pleasewhat?” I repeat.
