Page 115 of The Promises We Break

I nod, knowing he’ll never allow me to run ever again.

“Words, little red. I need your words.”

“Y-Yes, I understand.” Still nodding.

His lips trail down the middle of my chest, taking each nipple again, one at a time, then lower, as his tongue circles around my belly button. He tucks his hands in the waistband of my leggings and tugs them down my legs. There’s nothing soft and sensual about him right now. As he stands, he circles me, like a shark eyeing his prey, before he stops in front of my nightstand.

Pressing his lips together in a thin line as he exchanges looks between me and the nightstand. Those sexy, seductive lips turn up in a lopsided, sardonic smile as he leans down and hovers over me.

“Do you remember what I said when we watched Elena at the club with Jake and Christian?” he whispers over the shell of my ear.

How could I forget?

“What they do to her, I do to you.”

“Yes.” My voice is unsteady and breathy, torn between feeding the monster or fighting it.

“Are you ready for that, little red? Are you ready for your husband to claim you like no other man has or ever will?” He bites down on the soft flesh of my neck, and my breath catches in my throat as I groan.

“Yes,” I reply, too goddamn fast.

He grunts with a mixture of approval and satisfaction.

Grabbing my ankles, he spins my body to the side, flips me over, then kneels between my legs. I feel so exposed and vulnerable, and I love the power he holds over me. Because itdoesn’t feel like power, it feels like strength. Like it moves between us both whenever we’re together.

Opening the side table, he pops the top of a lubricant container and cold liquid drips down between my cheeks as his finger trails down the center. I flinch on instinct as he runs his finger over the tight hole, all the way down to my entrance, and back up again.

“You were made for me.” He tells me, as I press into my palms and glance over my shoulder at him. The fire in his eyes is still there; the burning desire seems like it never fades. But right now, in this moment, there is an appreciation, lust, love, respect, all rolled into one intoxicating expression.

His gaze meets mine, and he presses into his knees, lifting himself up. His chest presses against my back and he cups my face with one hand, kissing me forcefully, then cups my pussy with the other, rubbing slow circles around my clit. I choke out a moan, loving the balance of his vigorous kiss and tender touches.

I have no idea what to expect from him right now or where his fingers will go. The anticipation is both excruciating and so fucking erotic.

“Please,” I whimper, and I have no clue what I’m asking for.

He presses two fingers at the entrance of my pussy. “Say that again.”

“Please,” I repeat, louder and more urgently.

Then he pushes his fingers into my pussy, sliding in as my arousal coats his fingers.

I bite my lip and pull away from his kiss, pressing my forehead against the bed, feeling the pleasure of his fingers all the way down to my curled toes.

“You’re dripping for me.” He hums, pleased. “Or are you desperate to feel my cock buried in your tight ass?”

He curls his fingers in me and I groan, unable to reply with a proper response. And the truth is, I’m so desperate for him tohave me the way no one else has. To feel him in a part of my body I never thought I’d give to anyone. To see him fall apart as he claims that part of me.

“I want it. I want it so bad.” I give in to him.

He withdraws his fingers and trails them up the middle of my ass, mixing my arousal with the lube still covering my hole.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment as he sits back, watching his fingers move back and forth, circling the tight ring. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Comforting me in a way only he knows how.

It eases my tension as he presses one taut finger into my back hole, and my fingers instantly grip the bed sheets as I moan into them. The initial intrusion stings, lighting me on fire. He moves his finger in a soft, tender motion, and I feel the sudden need for more.

“More,” I beg, lifting my head to look back at him. His gaze as he looks between my ass and face is feral. Dire. His jaw is slacked, and he’s squeezing my hip forcefully with his free hand. “I need more.”

“Fuck.” His voice drips with a wanton desire as he sits up, trailing his finger all the way out, only to replace it with two, and I hiss and moan, all garbled up into inaudible words, and I still need more.

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