Page 59 of Take Me Under

Within seconds, my insides constricted, and my mind went hazy. In one blinding moment, white-hot pleasure shot through my veins. I cried out, unable to suppress my screams.

Time stood still. Or perhaps it was slowly passing without me. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All had lost any semblance of meaning. I was only aware of the tingling sensation all over my body as I slowly opened my eyes to see Anton standing at the side of the bed. His gaze feasted hungrily on my body as he unfastened the last button of his dress shirt.

My breath caught as he shrugged it off, the fabric sliding from his shoulders to reveal the hard, defined body I had only imagined until now. Broad and toned, every muscle seemed carved with the kind of strength that came from years of discipline. The soft glow of the bedside lamp traced the lines of his chest, the sharp cut of his abdomen, the defined curve of his biceps.

But it was the tattoo that held me captive.

Black ink stretched over his shoulder, a bold design of fascinating angles and sharp curves. It moved with him, accentuating the powerful lines of his body. At first glance, it seemed abstract, but the longer I looked, the more I could see fragments of symbols woven into the design, their meaning just out of reach. There was something primal about it, as if the ink carried a story only he knew. The details were precise, every line purposeful. The tattoo had been etched onto him with intent rather than impulse. It wasn’t just random—it belonged to him in a way that made it feel almost alive.

After he removed his pants, my gaze returned to the beautiful lines of his body. The man would make any sculptor weep. He was magnificent in every sense of the word. From his muscular thighs to the rippled power of his rock-hard abs, he was the perfect specimen of the alpha male.

He stood still, allowing me a moment to take in the rest of him. My gaze traveled down past his taperedVto settle on his long, thick erection that looked impossibly hard. When my eyes met his once more, I found a dangerous glint in his stare, those deep pools of onyx a violent inferno of desire.

His lips parted slightly as he moved to the bed, sliding up my torso and taking the lobe of my ear between his teeth. I heard a rustle, and realized he was sheathing a condom over his length. A shiver ran through me at what was about to come.

His erection pressed hard against my heat as his lips moved around to capture mine. Fisting his hand in my hair, he roughly yanked my head back to ravage my mouth. His teeth bit into my lower lip, the sharp sensation cutting through me and intensifying the ache in my belly.

I needed him inside me—right now.

He reached between us to position his tip to my entrance, and then he pushed into me with painstaking restraint. I inhaled sharply as he pierced me, stretching me inch by divine inch until he was rooted deep in my essence.

“You’re so wet. And hot. Fuck, Serena.” His guttural tone sounded almost unhinged—as if he was barely hanging on to control.

I tightened my legs around him. Taking my hands, he braced them on his shoulders and began to move inside me. As if made for each other, we easily found our rhythm. His motions were determined, matching me thrust after thrust. His rippled muscles bunched beneath my palms as he pounded into me. I didn’t think it was possible, but I was already ready to come again.

“Oh, God!” I gasped.

“Give it to me,” he growled with satisfaction. “I want to feel your nails on my back as you come. Let that sweet pussy tighten around me.”

Reaching between us, he began to circle my clit with his finger as he pushed deeper inside me. My muscles clenched involuntarily as he brought me closer and closer to that glorious peak. He knew exactly what to do to please me—hitting every pleasure point designed to torment me just long enough to ensure my climax would be cataclysmic. It was delicious, mind-blowing bliss that I’d never before experienced.

With every inch of his length buried inside me, I dug my nails into his shoulders. I was right on the cusp and could barely think, bracing myself for that spellbinding moment when I would be sent over the edge. Trembling, I lost more of myself with every passing moment. I became desperate, the promise of release all-consuming.

He pulled out and then used his strong hands to grip my hips and flip me over. It wasn’t slow or graceful—it was animalistic and desperate. His roughness didn’t bother me. It was the exact opposite. I loved this aggressiveness—the feeling of being owned.

With me on my knees, he pushed into me again with a hard thrust. Over and over again, he plunged impossibly deeper, reaching under me to grip my breasts, pinching my nipples into painful peaks.

Then his hand came down, smacking my ass once. Twice. A third time. I cried out as he drove us both toward ecstasy. I was mindless, wildly grinding against him as he powered forward until I split apart at the seams, overcome with a sensation of blinding heat.

“Anton!” I cried out.

Colors flashed before my eyes as the rush surged through me. My sensitive tissues rippled, spasming uncontrollably in a long, shattering, heart-pounding orgasm. My fingernails clawedat the sheets when I felt him tense. I matched his thrusts, waiting for the moment he would follow me into the abyss of mindless release.

With one last plunge, his body quivered before momentarily falling still. When his breath hitched, and I felt the delicious pulsating of his cock, we spiraled together as his climax burst forth.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Anton

Serena lay curled against me, her warm skin impossibly soft. Her breathing eventually steadied as her hand absently traced patterns over my chest. The aftershocks of several mind-blowing orgasms hung in the air like a satisfied sigh. The smell of sex and something uniquely hers lingered, arousing and intoxicating.

Her dark hair spilled across the pillow like ink, a stark contrast to the cream-colored sheets. In the faint glow from the city lights through the windows, she looked almost angelic. The soft curve of her lips, the delicate slope of her nose, the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks when she blinked—it was all impossibly perfect, almost too much for a man like me to take in without losing his grip on reality.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked after we lay there in quiet for a long while. Her voice was low and husky, making me want to sink into her once more.

“I’m thinking about how beautiful you are, and about how long it will be before I’m buried inside you again.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she tilted her head to look up at me.

---