Page 161 of His Forced Bride
Her thick walls grip down hard, the pulses dragging me with her as her climax breaks loose.
She sobs my name and thrashes against the cushions, her release forcing her body to clamp and release around me in sharp bursts.
I keep moving through it, pushing harder, drawing out every second of it until she goes limp under me and her chest heaves against mine.
When her wrists slip free, she seizes me by the shoulders and clings, her face pressed to my throat.
Her breath comes hot and broken against my skin, her body trembling.
I press my mouth to her hairline and taste the salt of her sweat before pulling free.
Her eyes open again.
They are hazy, still stormed with pleasure, but the hunger inside them is far from gone.
"Fuck," she breathes, and I grin at her desperation.
“Good girl," I say, and I roll her over, press her face into the sofa, and haul her hips high.
My hands spread her apart, exposing her, and I slide back into the wet heat of her body with one punishing thrust.
Her cry rips into the cushions.
Her scream muffles into the sofa and her fingers claw at the fabric while I drive into her.
The sound of my flesh slapping hers fills the room, every thrust pushing us both closer to the edge.
I grip her hips hard enough to leave bruises, dragging her back to meet every stroke.
She rocks against me, her voice breaking into curses and pleas, and I bare my teeth at the sight of her giving herself over completely.
“Take it,” I growl, driving into her with full force.
“Yes,” she cries out, her voice hoarse.
“Don’t stop.”
I slam deeper, forcing her knees apart, bending her to take me.
Sweat beads across my forehead and runs down my temples, but I don't let up.
I watch the tremor race through her body, hear the ragged gasp that warns me she is close again, and I keep her there, trapped between the need and the breaking point.
Her cries rise, higher, sharper, her pussy spasming around me as another orgasm tears through her.
She bucks against the cushions, her hands desperate to grip anything, and her sob of release drives me over the line.
I seize her hair, wrench her head back so her throat arches, and my release rips free in a rush that burns through me.
I bury myself to the hilt, spilling deep inside her, grinding through the spasms until I'm spent.
When I let her fall forward, she slumps into the cushions, her body damp with sweat, her breath ragged and broken.
I lower myself over her, covering her back with my chest, my mouth brushing her shoulder.
For a moment, neither of us moves. The air carries only the sound of our uneven breathing.
She turns her face, cheek pressed to the cushion, and her eyes catch mine from the corner.
