Page 75 of Captive Bride

He kisses me one last time, and I clench my arms around his neck. He moves my hips up in a rhythmic motion, guiding me to help him achieve maximum pleasure. And my pussy throbs and tightens around him as he hits my G-spot.

His nails dig into the side of my slim hips that rest freely in his hands.

He kisses me hard and then he throws me back down on the bed and flips me over.

It all happens so fast.

He cinches my wrists together with one strong hand. And then I feel the tip of his cock at the edge of my ass, and it sends a shudder of fear through my body.

I can’t take him like that.

“It’s too much, Tristan. I can’t.”

He spits on his hand and strokes his cock while still holding me in place. Then he inserts the tip at my most private hole—just the tip to acclimatize me to his size.

Nothing could prepare me for this.

“I can’t, Tristan. It’s too much.”

“Do you trust me, Isobel? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” I whimper, not sure if I even believe myself.

“It’s okay,” he says, and his voice is rough.

I feel his ragged, heated breath along my back, and he bends over me, keeping me in place.

I try to move away from his grasp. But he keeps me held down.

His cock slides in a little deeper, and I feel my ass spreading and tearing. He pumps into me quickly and releases his hold on my wrists, knowing that now, I’m not going anywhere.

“Finger yourself, baby. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

Fuck no, I will not.

I can’t do this.

But then I follow his command. I finger myself and squeeze my eyes shut to prevent tears from falling.

He quickens his thrusting, and to my surprise, it starts to feel good in that torturous kind of way.

I finger my clit, and it helps, and soon I find myself accepting him with more ease. I even start to crave the feel of his giant cock filling me up so much.

“Tristan, oh my fuck,” I say in between breaths.

“Tell me I’m your master. Tell me I own you,” he damn near growls. “And then beg me for more.”

I can’t do it.

I don’t know what to say or how to say it. But for as long as I waver, he forces himself into me harder.

“Say it, Isobel.”

The words escape my lips before I even know what I’m saying. “Fuck yes, master. Oh God, I fucking want it. It feels so good, and I want more.”

I’m sincerely begging now because if he doesn’t give it to me now, harder than ever, I think I’ll explode from want and need.

I claw at the sheets and attempt to steady myself against the bed and then he gives me exactly what I want.

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