Page 81 of Sweet Sinners
He groans against me, deep and possessive, the vibration shattering whatever’s left of my control. Gripping my thigh, he drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me wider, pushing his tongue deeper, harder. I lose myself completely—thoughts, worries,consequences—all of it blurring, replaced by the scorching sensation of him devouring me like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
When I finally break, it’s overwhelming, violent and perfect, eclipsing anything I felt earlier. I come hard, shaking uncontrollably against his mouth, vision blurring, body burning. My cries echo off the greenhouse walls, the sound shattering whatever caution I had left.
Connor eases me down gently, turning me to face the glass. My breath fogs the surface, creating a hazy reflection of us, raw, messy, perfect. I shudder, feeling the heavy, intimidating press of his cock against my ass as his hand guides mine to wrap around him. He's so thick, so fucking hard, and I want him inside menow.
"Connor, please," I pant, hips rolling back against him desperately. "I can take it, I want to."
He kisses my neck softly, a surprising gentleness beneath the hungry growl in his voice. "I’m going to take it slow," he murmurs roughly, his lips brushing my ear. "I won't hurt you."
I arch my back, grinding against him impatiently, needy. "I don't care. Just give me everything."
His groan vibrates against my shoulder. "You'll get everything, Angel. And more."
His hand slides around my hip, fingers teasing my swollen clit again as he eases himself inside me. Inch by thick, perfect inch, stretching me wide, deeper than I’ve ever been taken, deeper than any toy could ever go. My vision blurs again, spots dancing across my eyes as he fills me completely, stealing my breath, stealing every thought.
"Oh fuck—Connor!" I gasp, my body arching as he tugs my ponytail free, my nipples tightening as the cold glass brushes my chest, sending jolts of pleasure through every nerve. It's too good, too much, exactly what I've been missing, craving. Why did we wait? Why did we fight this?
He moves slow at first, deliberate, controlled, each deep thrust claiming me, making me his. Every inch, every thrust, every rasp of his breath against my throat whispers that he's wanted this as long as I have, maybe longer.
His hand grips my hair, tangling it roughly around his fist as he drags my head back, forcing me to look at our reflection, at him fucking me. "Watch," he commands, voice guttural and possessive. "See how good we look together? See how perfectly your body takes me?"
"Yes," I whimper, my voice shaking with desire.
"Mine," he growls into my skin, driving into me harder, deeper, claiming every part of me. "And I'm going to remind you every fucking day, Calliope. Every damn day."
My legs shake, the muscles tightening as I brace myself against the glass, my hips slamming forward with each thrust. I've never felt more alive, more needed, more completely owned. And I couldn’t be happier, couldn’t care less about the ruined makeup or the tangled hair, because right now Connor’s buried deep inside me, and I swear he was made just for this. Just forme.
I grip the back of his neck, nails biting into his skin, needing something to hold onto, something to ground me as he drives deeper, harder, until pleasure replaces thought entirely. His mouth moves along my neck, lips and teeth leaving scorching trails of heat, marking every sensitive spot until I’m gasping, begging him not to stop.
"Connor, fuck, I—" I can’t form a full sentence—not when he’s touching me like this, not when every nerve ending is blazing, on the edge of shattering. "Please, please don’t stop."
"That’s right," he growls roughly in my ear, fingers stroking faster over my clit, his pace punishing. "You're gonna come for me, again and again, because you're my good girl."
"Yes," I pant, dizzy from the sensation, from him.
"Mine," he snarls again making sure I don't forget his claim, voice dripping with possessiveness, and it pushes me over the edge, pleasure exploding through me so violently I nearly collapse in his arms. "I’m not done until I’m ready to burst," he promises darkly.
As soon as I come, he spins me around, lifting me effortlessly as my legs wrap around him again, my arms clinging tight around his neck. He doesn’t miss a beat, driving back inside me as he claims my mouth again, kissing me with a hunger that matches every desperate thrust. I moan into him, sweat slicking our bodies, clawing at his back like I’ll die if he pulls away now.
Connor presses his forehead to mine, panting, breath hot against my lips. "Look at me," he commands roughly. "I want you to see who makes you feel like this. Who’s fucking you, owning you."
I nod helplessly, lost, drunk on him. "Yes. Fuck yes."
He growls low in his throat, his eyes burning into mine as he dips his head, biting down hard on the top of my breast. The sharp sting of pain mixes with pleasure, sending me spiraling again, shuddering helplessly against him.
This time, he pulls out, finishing hot and messy on my stomach with a raw groan. I clutch him tighter, pulling him back into another kiss, deep and desperate. And it feels like more than just a kiss, it's like breathing him in, tasting him in a way that's vital, necessary, and undeniably addictive.
Like he's suddenly everything I'll ever need.
"Say it again," he commands roughly, voice shaking almost as much as his strong arms still holding me off the ground.
I brush a soft, trembling kiss over his bottom lip. "I'm yours."
"Mine," he echoes, eyes burning into mine with a possessiveness that steals my breath. "But only in secret."
My stomach drops. "What?"
He gently lowers me to the ground, steadying me with careful hands around my waist. I watch quietly as he pulls his pants back up, pocketing my soaked panties with a satisfied smirk, like he's claiming his territory. I clutch my bra awkwardly behind me, suddenly feeling too exposed, too vulnerable. Connor notices immediately, his expression softening as he gently pushes stray hair behind my ear.
