Page 79 of Spearcrest Knight

My insides clench at the thought—my own body betraying the truth in his words.

“Stop talking,” I gasp.

He pushes against me and I tense, suddenly nervous.

But he pauses. The flame of his mouth presses against my cheek. He speaks right against my ear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Sutton, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you feel good—so fucking good you’ll never get the thought of me out of your head ever again.”

And then he pushes himself slowly inside me. I bite down hard on my lip, forcing myself to remain silent. I’m nervous. This is my first time in a while—my first time with someone as big as him, but I’d rather die than tell Evan this.

Except that Evan, for someone so stupid and so cruel, is surprisingly gentle. He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust, until his hips meet the curve of my arse. Then he pauses, buried deep inside me while I relax around him, adjusting to the size of him, to this new sensation. Being impossibly full, being connected to him this intimately, is both terrifying and electrifying. I tremble underneath him, fingers gripping the table, throat tight. He’s still holding my hair in his fist and he pulls lightly, pulling my head back to his.

“All right, Sutton?” His voice is a low shudder in my ear—too soft, too full of emotion.

I force my voice through the thorny tunnel of my throat. “I barely feel a thing.”

It’s a lie, of course, but I don’t want Evan to forget what this is. If he does, I might forget too. I won’t be another one of Evan’s conquests, another one of his string of jilted girlfriends and hapless admirers.

He can fuck me and forget me—I’ll forget him faster.

“Fucking liar.” His voice is angry, but his cock stiffens inside me.

He pins my hips to the table with both hands, and moves, thrusting in and out. His movements grow more desperate, more angry. But each brutal thrust comes with an explosion of sensations, the pain trailing behind shimmering pleasure, until I’m forced to bite down on my own cries, until my nails are digging into the polished wood of the table.

“Feel that, Sutton? My hard cock inside you? How good it feels in your wet pussy?”

He buries inside me with a hard, punishing thrust and a pathetic sound of pleasure slips past my lips. This isn’t the wet, soft pleasure of Evan’s mouth on me, his tongue lapping luxuriously at my clit. This is something altogether different: like being invaded and made hollow, like being hurt and satisfied all at once. I squirm my hips to escape his harsh thrusts, and yet arch my back every time he slows down, craving more.

“Ah, fuck Sutton.” Evan’s voice is so hoarse it’s almost a snarl. “You fuckingwantthis—youwantme, I know you do.”

He suddenly pulls me up against him, one arm wrapped around my waist, one hand around my neck. There’s no pressure in his fingers; he’s simply holding me against him, my head falling back against his shoulders. He thrusts inside me with a low groan. His mouth moves against my temple, my hair. He bites my earlobe and pulls, then kisses my neck, sucking on the skin there, sending hot, sharp pleasure spearing through me.

Like water through a dam, a moan finally breaks through my barrier of silence.

I stifle it, but not in time. Evan hears it—I know because he suddenly pulls out of me, startling a gasp from me. He flips me around, propping me up on the edge of the table by my hips.

Our eyes meet.

His expression is wild with hunger—with something else. I turn away. I don’t want this—he pulls me to him, and thrusts into me, fucking me with fervour, with aggression—with insistence, as if daring me to ignore him.

He reaches for my face, grasping it in his hand, forcing me to face him.

“Look at me,” he commands. “Fuck, Sophie—”

He falls forward—his mouth almost catches mine but I turn at the last minute. He buries his face in the crook of my neck as his thrusts become frantic, desperate. I arch against him, bracing against each thrust. His mouth moves in hot, hungry kisses against my neck, making me tremble with pleasure. I reach up, grabbing a handful of his hair. I pull sharply, yanking his head away from me.

He looks down, our gazes meet.

His blue eyes widen. “Ah—God, Sophie, I—fuck!”

Even though I'm on the pill, the thought of Evan coming inside me is so shockingly intimate it sends a bolt of terror through me. I push his hips away in sudden panic, but he’s already pulling out. He takes his cock in his fist and pulls, and falls forward against me. Hot liquid spurts against my abdomen, but I’m too shocked to move, surprised by his orgasm, by my own pleasure, by the unexpected intimacy of watching Evan Knight come.

His face is a mask of pained pleasure, his eyes wide underneath the fallen golden curls and shiny, his mouth open in an expression akin to surprise.

Who would have thought he would look so pure and beautiful while he came?

I should push him away from me, but I wait for a moment. His forehead rests against my shoulder. His face is hidden from view but I can hear the chaos of his pants. Finally, he pulls himself up; I don’t dare look him in the face.

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