Page 157 of His To Erase
His breath skates across my jaw, and it’s a threat disguised as worship.
And fuck me—I want it. I want him so bad. At this point, I’d do whatever he asked me to.
My pride screams at me to look away, to claw my way back to whatever scraps of dignity I have left and get up, but my body doesn’t move.
I’m still open for him, because I need him to keep going. I’m so wrecked I could cry.
And God, I hate how much I need him right now.
I open my mouth to snap back—because I need to fight like I still have something left to protect. But then he does something unforgivable. He pulls his fingers out and for one, fleeting, horrifying second—I think it’s over.
Then his hands are on me again—hauling me up off the floor like I don’t weigh a fucking thing. My back’s still slick with sweat, and my thighs are trembling from the aftershocks, but he doesn’t give me a second to recover.
He drops to his knees between mine.
“Spread your legs,” he says.
I don’t move fast enough, so he does it for me. He puts one hand on each thigh and pushes me open again.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”
But before I can shake my head, or even react, he’s eating me like he’s punishing me for making him want it this bad. His hands clamp around my thighs, holding me still while his mouth works every inch—licking, sucking, and fucking me with his tongue until I’m shaking all over again.
“Oh God—please?—”
“Say his name again,” he growls, dragging his fingers through my soaked slit and thrusting them deep, “and I’ll make you choke on mine until you remember who answers your prayers.”
He devours me like he’s starving and I’m the last thing worth tasting. When he finally pulls back—his lips are wet, and his eyes are fucking glowing. He doesn’t even give me a chance to breathe—just grabs me, spins me around, and bends me over the couch, yanking me back onto my knees like I’m nothing but a body for him to throw around.
And it’s fucking hot.
There’s no warning before I feel the thick, hot drag of him between my soaked lips—slow and punishing—coating himself in everything he just wrung out of me.
“You wanted control,” he growls, as his thick tip presses right where I’m still aching. “You begged for it. Crawled for it.”
He pushes forward just enough to make me jolt—and my arms give out.
“And now you’re gonna take it.”
My scream tears through the room, and I’m wrecked. He’s everywhere. Inside me. Over me. Around me.
And—oh my fucking god—he’s huge.
I’ve never actually seen it yet, but it feels like he’s splitting me in half. My head spins and I can’t catch my breath. I can’t even think straight.
I can’t do anythingbuttake it.
His cock stretches me wide, and for a second, I swear my soul leaves my body.
Part of me feels like I should feel used in a way. But the only thing I feel is full. I have this need for him that’s a fucking addiction at this point.
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back until my spine bows tight and I’m gasping—pulsing around him, completely gone.
“Say it,” he growls, against my ear.
When his hips snap forward with one merciless thrust, the air leaves my lungs in a shattered gasp. My mind is gone. Blank.
My body isn’t mine anymore, it’s his. Every inch. Every breath. Every fucking nerve ending. It all belongs to him.
