Page 66 of Victorious: Part I

“No,” I pant. “Still not yours.”

A salacious smirk crosses his face as he moves in between my legs, his fingers gripping my thighs firmly, surely to leave bruises.

Just the way we both like it.

His eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other, knowing the game is back on. I waggle my brows while biting down on my bottom lip. “C’mon, lover,” I tease.

He tilts his head, his fingers clenching into my thighs with brutal force as he pulls me forward, straight onto his waiting cock, driving into me like a goddamn hammer.

Our faces scrunch at the feeling of joining again, especially when his eyes lock with mine, his chest frantic as he tries to control his breathing. “Then I guess I’ll have to carve my name into your soul.”

Something about his words almost undoes me, but I don’t have time to react as he pulls me off him and back on again.

Fast.

Unrelenting.

The pace quickly brings me close to the edge again.

“You get under my skin, Little Lamb.” His voice growls now. “You make me lose control. Make me think about fucking you during meetings. During war plans. During goddamn Church.”

I arch my brow, panting, my skin burning, goose bumps coming alive across my skin. “Maybe I should act up more often,” I tease.

He slams into me harder, almost hitting my G-spot. I moan so loud that my eyes roll into the back of my head. “Keep talking. See what else I break,” he warns through gritted teeth.

And he does break me.

Over and over until I’m clawing at the table, screaming his name, clenching around him like my body’s begging him never to let go. His hands grip my hips while my nails tear at his back. He moans, thrusting so hard into me as we rock the table with so much force it continues to creak beneath us.

“Harder!” I moan, bringing my hand up, and slap him across his face.

He glares down at me, his eyes fierce, a fire burning in him, only igniting me even more as he hoists me up, still inside me, then slams me down on the table again, sending a jolt through my body as a resounding crack rumbles through the room.

The Chapel table?

Cracked.

Just like us.

He stalls, glancing beside me. There’s a giant ripple in the table beside me. His eyes twitch as he shifts his wicked gaze back to me. “You want it harder, baby? I’ll give it to you fucking harder!”

He grabs my ass, lifting me off the cracked table, thrusting back into me, continuing to fuck me off the fucking table until we both hit the hard floor, tangled in sweat, curses, and undeniable pleasure.

He continues to work me up on the floor thrust after thrust. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, my fingers digging into the flesh of his back, causing him to hiss through his teeth as our lips slam together in a frantic kiss.

Hungry, needy, desperate for each other.

Sweat beads over our skin as we slide together, needing the buildup, needing the pleasure, needing the pain.

Needing each other.

His hand slides down, hoisting my thigh higher, pushing it back toward my head so he can thrust deeper. The instant he edges in further, we both almost lose it.

“Fuck, Haven!” His lips slam back to mine, his teeth biting down on my bottom lip so intensely the metallic tang of blood seeps through.

“Mmm,” I whimper, kissing him back as we fuck frantically like damn animals, desperate to reach our high.

We need it.

---