Page 160 of His Forced Bride
The words drag out of my chest, the first time I’ve given them to her, and I see the truth of it flash in her eyes before I crush my mouth to hers.
There’s no space for questions, no room for anything but the heat that overtakes us both.
Her body yields against mine as I lift her, carrying her the few steps to the sofa, and when I drop her onto the cushions, she drags me down on top of her with fists tangled in my shirt.
I rip it open, buttons scattering across the floor, and her nails rake my chest as I shove her coat down her arms and strip her sweater over her head.
Her bra pops open under my hand and I peel it away, taking her breasts into my mouth one after the other while she writhes beneath me, breath breaking against my ear.
I bite, suck, and taste her until she’s gasping for more, then I drag my mouth down her stomach as my hands tear at the fastenings of her jeans.
The denim resists and I lose patience, wrenching the button free and hauling them down her hips while she lifts to help me.
I drag them from her legs and fling them aside, leaving her bare but for the thin strip of lace she calls panties, which I rip away.
She grabs for my belt, pulls it open, shoves my trousers down, and then her hand is on me, stroking hard enough to make me growl into her neck.
“That’s mine,” she whispers against my jaw, and I answer her by seizing her thighs and spreading her wide beneath me.
I line myself up and press into her, blunt head pushing past the tight heat of her body inch by inch until I am fully seated inside her.
Her eyes flutter shut, a sound rising in her throat that is neither word nor cry, only raw pleasure.
I hold still, buried in her, feeling the way she grips around me, and the restraint it takes to not give her everything at once burns through every vein.
When she claws at my back in demand, I pull nearly free before driving back into her with a force that makes her arch and gasp.
Her voice breaks against my shoulder as I find a rhythm and every thrust claims more of her.
She clings to me with teeth at my throat and nails scoring down my skin, her body meeting mine stroke for stroke.
The room fills with the sound of her gasps, her breath, her moans, all of it driving me harder.
I take her mouth again, swallowing every sound, grinding deeper until she trembles under me.
I want her desperate, wrung out, undone beneath my hands, and I will not stop until she gives me every last piece.
Her legs lock around my hips.
Her heels drive into me, pulling me closer with every thrust.
I hammer into her, until the sound of her breath turns ragged and her nails cut into my shoulders.
“Come for me,” I tell her.
My mouth is at her ear, my words leaving no room for refusal. “Now.”
She gasps when I angle deeper.
Her body jolts under the pressure and her head falls back against the sofa.
I trap her wrists above her head and use my other hand to shove her thigh wider, holding her open for me.
Each drive of my cock grinds against the spot that takes her higher.
She arches, moans, and twists beneath me, but I keep her pinned.
Her voice shatters into a cry. “Yuri.”
