Page 46 of No Words
She’s a mess for me, my mess, and I’ve never seen anything more goddamn beautiful.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” I tell her, my voice rough with restrained need. “Hard enough that you’ll feel me for days. Every time you move, you’ll remember who you belong to.”
I settle between her thighs, the tip of my cock teasing her entrance, just long enough to watch her squirm. She’s dripping wet, so fucking ready it’s obscene. I slam into her without warning, burying myself in one brutal stroke. She cries out, the sound wrecked and raw, pain laced with pleasure, her body straining against the restraints as I stretch her wide around me.
“That’s it,” I grit out, holding deep. “Take it. You can handle it.”
I fuck her with a punishing rhythm, one hand gripping her hip rough enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. With her wrists bound beneath her, I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back, exposing the long line of her throat. The position bows her spine beautifully, forcing her back into a deep arch that lets me sink in to the hilt, deeper than I’ve ever been. She takes it, takes me, without hesitation. Her body is pure surrender, every inch bent to my will, and the trust in her eyes only makes it filthier.
She doesn’t even realize what she gives me. This isn’t just lust; this is the kind of need that makes men dangerous, and I want to keep her like this forever.
“Every inch of you is mine.” I growl in her ear, tightening my grip on her throat just enough to make her gasp. “Say it, or I stop.”
“Yours,” she chokes out, the word strained under the pressure of my hand.
I release her throat, blood rushing back to her brain in a wave that makes her eyes roll. The flood of sensation, paired with my relentless thrusts, drives her closer to the edge. She tightens around me, trembling, seconds from coming.
“Not yet,” I warn, slowing my pace to keep her there, strung tight. I reach between us, circling her clit enough to torment, not enough to tip her over.
“You don’t come until I say so.”
A sob of frustration tears from her throat, her body shaking with the effort of holding back. I build up the pressure, driving her higher while denying release.
“Please,” she begs, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Please, Cole.”
I lean into her and bite the junction of her neck and shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark she’ll wear for days. Then I pull out without warning, flipping her onto her stomach in one brutal motion. Her bound wrists shift beneath her, raising her ass high in the air, on display, offered up like she already knows what’s coming.
I grip her hips, lifting them higher, positioning myself behind her. Leaning over, I let spit fall from my mouth, slow and filthy, landing right where I want it.
Then I press the tip of my cock against her tight little ass. She tenses instinctively, breath catching, but doesn’t pull away.
Good.
“Relax,” I murmur, voice low and dangerous. “You’re going to take all of me.”
“No one else gets this.” My voice drops, rough and wrecked with need as I push my thumb inside her to gently stretch her, prepping her for what’s coming, leaving her gasping with each thrust. The way she pushes back against my thumb tells meeverything I need to know; her body’s begging, even if her mouth won’t say it.
I work her open, steady and relentless, my free hand slipping beneath her to circle her clit, keeping her right on that razor’s edge. She whimpers, caught between aching need and the pressure building inside her.
When I finally line myself up and press the thick head of my cock to her ass, the resistance is fucking exquisite. Her body fights it, tight, trembling, but she moans like she wants more.
I push deeper with slow, merciless control, forcing her to take every inch until I’m buried to the hilt. She shudders beneath me, stretched and full, bound and helpless.
“Tell me what I am to you,” I demand, sliding one hand up her spine and pressing her down, forcing a deeper arch while my other hand works her clit with ruthless precision.
“Everything,” she gasps, face buried in the mattress, straining against the belt cinched tight around her wrists.
Her surrender, her need to obey, feeds something feral in me. I drive into her harder, the bed frame crashing into the wall with every thrust. Each one a claim. A brand. I’m rewriting her from the inside out until her body knows no one but me.
“Please,” she breathes, a bead of sweat slipping down her temple, her voice breaking. “I can’t—I need?—”
I lean down and catch the drop with my tongue, tasting the salt of her desperation.
“Not yet,” I rasp against her skin, grinding in slow and deep, stretching the torment. “You come when I say. Not before.”
Her whole body shakes with the restraint, a broken sob ripping from her chest. I don’t let up. I drag her to the edge and yank her back, once, twice, a third time, until tears streak her cheeks and her begging dissolves into incoherent need.
Only when she’s wrecked and trembling, undone by desperation, do I press my fingers hard against her clit and screw her with a rhythm designed to destroy.
