Page 83 of The Candlemaker

“Because it’s your scent, Frankie.” His grip tightened possessively. “You smell like cinnamon, and…fuck,I don’t want anyone else to have that.” His eyes glittered. “I want it to be all mine.”

My jaw dropped.

His cinnamon.

Something surged like a coil unsprung in my chest, more powerful than anything I’d ever felt before. I felt the lightest graze of his lips over mine, and then he was gone—lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with desire.

“So burn me, my little flame. Make me yours.”

My throat bobbed, my heart rioting in my chest at his words. They sounded like so much more than this—than just pleasure for one night.

My inhale was buried into the bottom of my belly as I lifted myself up, reaching down and notching his blunt tip at my entrance as I held the candle high over his chest.

Our eyes sparked together. Locked.

I tipped it to the side and let the wax fall, impaling myself on his cock at the exact same time.

My jaw dropped, but it was his roar that filled the room. He was so big—so thick. A moan escaped at the way he filled me.

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. So tight.” His hands roamed my waist and then gripped my hips like his body was a string about to snap.

I dipped my finger into the cooling pool of wax, tracing it out onto his skin like he’d done to me. He hissed.

“Is it too hot?” My voice sounded so sultry.

“Not as hot as your pussy.” His hands tightened, and he pressed deeper inside me, making me gasp.

Biting my lip, I rose up on my knees and tilted the candle again, sinking down on his cock as fresh, hot wax splattered on his stomach. My jaw went slack when his cock rubbed against my G-spot, pleasure exploding through me.

I knew I was supposed to be the one in control. The one with the candle. The one on top and in charge. But desirescrambled my brain. The swell of him inside me. The friction. The heat.

I couldn’t…I needed him.

One last night.

“Fuck me,” I panted—begged.“Pleasefuck me.”

A growl reverberated out of him, and then my hips were no longer my own.

“Anything you want, baby,” he rasped and pressed himself deep. “I’m yours.”

His hips angled back, and then he slammed up into me. I cried out at the assault of pleasure on my G-spot. He shackled me to the mercy of his thrusts, holding me as he drove up hard into my slick, welcoming body.

“Yes,”I moaned over and over, choking on the word because he fucked me so hard my breaths couldn’t keep up the pace.

Our bodies slapped together over and over. Between gasps, I tipped more wax onto his torso, relishing how each burst of pain made him drive faster. Harder. When my vision started to flicker and dim, I blew out the candle and let it roll out of my fingers and onto the floor.

“That’s it, baby. Take all of my cock,” he growled, and my vision wavered and then focused on him.

The flex of his forearms, a sheen of sweat on his skin. His core was tight, his muscles lay like bricks below me. I rested my hands on his chest—in the soft wax I’d left there—feeling it mold under my fingers.

“Fuck, Frankie,” he cursed, and pleasure coiled tighter inside me, every one of his thrusts rubbing that sweet spot buried deep inside me like it was made just for him to find. “Come for me.” He drove deeper, the mattress groaning at every seam. “Burn me with your sweet cunt.”

My core clenched, and I came apart with a scream.

My body spasmed around him, my muscles feeling out of control, and then he let out one last roar that shook my very bones. Holding my hips, Chandler thrust impossibly deep and held himself buried there, his big cock pulsing inside me. Filling me.Consuming me.

The pleasure. The pain. All of him consumed me.

---