Page 76 of Major Penalty

She nods and lifts her hips to meet mine, begging with her body.

Fucking god.

I slam in deeper and hold it there, grinding against that spot inside her that makes her legs shake. A deep sob rips from her throat as I angle myself and start pounding into her G-spot. My hip fucking hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the fire coursing through me right now.

She’s falling apart underneath me, hands gripping me, lips parted, pupils blown wide with that cocktail of shame and desire.

She looks like sin. Like the kind of girl you don’t just take. You keep. And I want to keep her forever. I want her to want to keep me forever, too. I want to be worth keeping.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” I growl, driving into her hard and unforgiving. “Tomorrow’s headlines. Tabloids plastered with your face twisted in pleasure, right next to the mugshot,” I murmur into her ear, my voice a knife wrapped in silk. Her moan is high, broken, and so sweet it makes my jaw clench.

I drag my tongue along her jaw.

“Soaked. Shaking. On my dick while they cuff us.”

Her body trembles, tightens. Every word I say feeds the thing unraveling inside her.

“You want this,” I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. “Doing something you’re not supposed to.”

“Yes,” she gasps, and her admission fuels me more.

“You gonna come for me?” I growl against her throat, my teeth nipping the skin before I soothe it with a kiss. “Gonna fall apart for the camera's?” Her body jerks beneath me as she lets out a high-pitched whimper. I know that sound. That breathless stutter in her throat. That helpless moan she tries to swallow.

She’s right there, and I want her to fall.

I grab her face and force her to look at me—eyes glassy.

“Come for me,” I growl. “Be a good girl and let go.”

And she does, right under me. Her whole body shudders, her back arches, and the sound she makes fucking ruins me. Her pussy squeezes my dick as she screams, and it takes all I have not to spill into her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you break.” I hold her through it, talking her down while she shakes, screams, and clings to me.

Her dress is bunched at her waist, pushed up halfway. But that won't do for what I have coming.

I grip the soft fabric and tug it higher, all the way up, until her breasts are bare, stomach slick with sweat, her thighs trembling from everything I’ve already taken from her.

This image of her is going to replay in my mind over and over again. My hand slides between her breasts and down her belly as she falls back on the bar.

My breath is coming faster now, heart pounding as I watch her writhe and clutch at me, too overwhelmed to stop any of it.

Her eyes roll back, and I lose it.

I pull out, grip her thighs hard enough to leave marks, and finish across her belly, hot cum shooting out of my dick and right across her perfect skin. I’m marking her, claiming her, watching her breasts tremble with every shaky breath.

She looks like a dream. And that’s exactly what she is. My dream.

Irene is still trembling on the bar, skin flushed and hair wild. Her legs are spread, her body still slick with cum, and damn if I don't want to bury myself inside her again. The ocean stretches behind her—endless, like the way my thoughts seem to spin around her. I watch her, taking in the way the sun catches her skin and how the soft breeze lifts her hair. I can’t help it—every time I look at her, I see her differently. Her dress is bunched around her neck, chest heaving like she just ran through hell barefoot.

I reach for a paper towel and tear off a piece. Gently, I wipe the mess that I made, tracing the curve of her body. She flinches slightly, her eyes snapping open when the towel brushes over her skin, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m just cleaning you up,” I murmur, watching her relax. I’m not thorough with the cleaning. I want her to go talk to Daddy with my cum smeared across her stomach. It’s fucked up. But I can’t stop myself. The possessiveness, the hunger…it’s all twisting inside me, and no matter how wrong it feels, it feelsso fucking good.

She doesn’t move. I’m not even sure if she can. Her body’s still adjusting to everything I’ve made her do. I toss the paper towel in the bin, my eyes flicking back to her.

I reach for her hand and pull her up, her dress falling back over her body like a veil. She sways a little, and my chest tightens—sick and proud.

She’s still trying to catch her breath when the panic starts creeping in. I see it in her eyes, darting around the outdoor area, like she suddenly remembers where we are. Her hands fist at my shirt, panic flooding in her eyes.

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