Page 107 of On Thin Ice

He growled against my skin, and I felt every bit of it in my bones.

“Ethan,” I gasped, and he bit me again, hard enough to make me see stars.

“Say it,” he ordered, driving his fingers deeper. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I panted. “Fuck, Ethan, of course I’m yours.”

He pulled out so suddenly I barely had time to whimper before the blunt, hot head of his cock replaced his fingers.

“Baby,” I whispered—not in protest, but in surrender.

He gripped my hip and drove in with one long, driving thrust.

I screamed into the pillow, my hands clawing at the bed covers as my body stretched around him, barely able to take the thickness of him all at once.

“Fuck,” he choked out behind me, the word broken. “Jesus, Bell.”

He drew back an inch, then rammed back in, hips snapping again and again.

Each forward push of his hips was harder than the last, relentless and raw, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing off the walls.

Then I felt it—hot tears landing on my lower back. One. Then another.

Something fractured in the way he moved, like grief had wrapped itself around his spine and was dragging him down with every thrust.

I turned my head, trying to see him over my shoulder, but all I could make out was his shadow, hunched over me, breath ragged and uneven.

“Take it,” he growled, fucking into me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth. “Take all of me.”

“I’ve got you,” I gasped, shoving back against him. “You want to fall apart? Do it. Right here. On me. In me.”

A low, guttural noise tore from his throat—half sob, half snarl—and he fucked me harder, deeper, like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t crawl far enough inside me to escape whatever was eating him alive.

The stretch was brutal, almost too much.

And I loved it.

Loved the burn, the bite, the way his fingers dug bruises into my hips like he was marking me. Claiming me.

I loved him.

Even like this.

Maybeespeciallylike this.

And suddenly I understood why he always wanted it rough. Why Ethan needed me to take him apart. Because sometimes, the only way to silence your demons was to be louder than them. To feel something stronger. To let go.

“Use me,” I moaned, pressing my forehead to the mattress.

I was gone. Completely wrecked. A mindless mess of sensation, panting into the pillows, fingernails digging into the comforter until I heard the sound of cotton tearing in my grip.

I’d never seen Ethan like this before, lost to his need in a way that made him almost feral. It should have scared me, but it didn’t. Because this was him freeing himself to take what he needed.

And that was me.

The slap of our bodies echoed in the room, filthy and wet and wild. I could hear his breath stuttering, the occasional choked sob, the way he whispered my name like it was the only thing he still believed in.

I was so fucking close, every thrust hitting me just right, the force of Ethan’s body dragging my cock against the mattress, a puddle leaking beneath me.

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