Page 92 of Devil's Tulip

I tie the fabric over her eyes, making sure it’s snug but comfortable. “Okay?” I ask quietly and she nods again. “Good.”

My hand curves around her throat, tilting her head back. Then I devour her lips. I kiss her hard, deep—inhaling her like air. Keeping her distracted with my lips, I let my other hand roam, gliding over her hip, around the tempting curve of her ass.

I nudge her thighs apart, stretching them wide, and she breaks the kiss to glance down at my cock. The hard organ weeps precum as I take in the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy.I did that to her.

Spreading her thighs even wider, I move into the space between them, notching my cock at her tight hole from behind before slowly pushing in. Her pliant body welcomes me warmly, and in one smooth, hard thrust, I sink into her to the hilt.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.The word hammers through my skull as pleasure rockets up my spine, tingling, burning, searing through my veins like wildfire.

I grit my teeth, muscles locking as the urge to just thrust and thrust and thrust until I pour out my essence into her overwhelms me. But I breathe through my nose, forcing control, and snake my hand across her belly, up to her tits, squeezing the soft flesh as my cock goes even deeper inside her.

In this position, I’ve got her caged in, completely mine. I lift my hands to the headboard, framing hers, and drop my head to her neck, my breath hot against her skin as I slowly thrust in and out of her.

“Jesus Christ,” she moans, her head falling back to rest on my shoulders. A black cloud of soft hair spills over my face, stealing my vision for a moment.

“No.Michael,” I correct as I gently push her hair aside. “Say my name, love.”

She lets out a feverish groan and tries to shift back into me, trying to get me to move faster inside her, but I’ve got her well and truly pinned—at my complete mercy.

I withdraw until just the tip remains, then pump back into her with deliberate slowness, drawing a long, keening moan from her lips. I keep fucking her like that in shallow, teasing thrusts that feel incredible but aren’t enough to take either of us to our climax.

She loses herself completely.

“Michael, Michael, please, Michael,” she whimpers mindlessly, and my chest expands, blood roaring in my ears as my eyes half-close in ecstasy. When she chants my name in that gasping, needy tone—one I’ve discovered she only uses when I’m driving her mad with pleasure—it does unholy things to me.

She keeps calling for me, begging with my name, and the thin thread of control I’ve been clinging to snaps.

I forget why I wanted to go slow and steady.

I forget everything except the need to claim, to possess, to mark.

My hands drop from the headboard to her hips, holding her in place as I drive into her with all my strength. The force of it sends her head knocking against the headboard with an audible thud, but all she does is scream my name, her voice raw with pleasure.

Cursing under my breath, I quickly lift one hand and brace it against the headboard in front of her so her head hits my palm instead of the hard surface as I maintain the punishing pace. The ache in my knuckles from absorbing each impact barely registers—drowned out by the pleasure building at the base of my spine.

My vision blurs as the slow, inevitable trickle of my sperm winds its way up my cock, every relentless thrust forcing it higher.

Not yet. Not until she falls apart for me first.

I fuck Gianna even harder and snake my free hand around her hip, down to her soaked folds, then up to her clit. But I don’t touch yet. I hold my hand there, letting the thought of thepressure I might exert over the nerves at any time drive her crazy as I twist my hips, angling my thrusts upwards towards her g-spot.

Her body shudders violently, arching before curving down as her hands slip from the headboard to slap the bedsheets. And despite my hand cushioning her head, she still manages to knock the damn board again.

I stop fucking into her to ask a strained, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t you fucking stop you fucking bastard you—arrghh!” she yells, the words dissolving into a guttural cry as I thrust into her before she can finish her rant.

I drop my head to her curved spine, nipping at her sweet flesh before dragging my lips up, up, up to the side of her neck. My hand leaves the board to wrap around her throat, fingers pressing just enough to make her gasp.

And then?—

I lose control.

I fuck into her hard and fast, without finesse or restraint, the sharp slap of our bodies and our ragged moans filling the air like a symphony of sin. My grip tightens around her throat, and I press the pad of my palm to her clit, pinning her between two unbearable sensations just as my body goes white-hot with my orgasm.

My brain fizzles out as her hot cunt clenches around me, her throat convulsing beneath my palm as she gasps through her own climax, struggling for breath. I barely register letting go of her throat before my hand slaps down on the bed beside her head. And fuck—she squeezes even tighter, her orgasm wringing me dry as she lets out a muffled shriek, her head buried in the mattress.

Heat, tightness, her muffled cries—it all slams into me at once, seizing every nerve in my body.

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