Page 46 of Princess Claimed

She gasps, and her eyelids flutter, her eyes losing focus.

Why didn’t the Master let us fuck woman like this? Why didn’t he allow us to look into a woman’s eyes while we rammed into her hole?

Ana’s eyes reveal way more than her words ever could. She loves this position too, and trapped in her gaze, I move my hips freely, letting our bodies set the pace together. Ana is part of me now, or perhaps I’m part of her. Semantics don’t matter, and I rock into her, her eyes revealing the impact of each thrust.

“Fuck, Ana.” I grin. “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.”

“That’s perfect.” Her words are carried on ragged breaths. “Because I hate you too.”

Chapter

Twenty-One

Ana

Phil shoots another massive load inside me, and my body’s wracked by an orgasm so savage I lose track of where I am, of who I am. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had sex at this point, lost any control of both my body and mind.

My eyes regain focus and my sense of time and space gradually return. Phil is thrusting excruciatingly slowly inside me now, massaging his seed into my walls, forcing it into my womb, drawing some out and pushing it back in with each slow plow.

He’s behind me, my knees balanced on the arms of one of the leather club chairs, my head pressing against its back, but I have little memory of how either of us got here. With a deep groan, Phil thrusts more forcefully, slamming hard and deep a few times, and it switches up the places where I feel the most pressure. Together, we’ve been learning each other’s bodies, marveling in our studies. I hope to earn a PhD in Phil.

Tugging back on my hips, he breaks the rhythm of his luxuriously slow thrusts to drive extra deep. My back arches, sending my gaze upward as I moan.

This chair normally sits in the middle of the room, but it’s against a wall now. It must have relocated here with me on it, its movement powered by Phil’s thrusts. Now it’s here, the wall braces each of his drives, helping him hit magical spots in my body each time.

When Phil fucks me hard and fast it’s beyond intense. So intense I lose my mind—unable to see; unable to breathe—but he’s taking his time at the moment, and I’m truly reminded of his titanic size, filling me beyond capacity, beyond comprehension, and my pleasure is overwhelming.

I thought Crusher’s cock was huge, but Phil…

His angle changes again, and I gasp.

Phil fills me so completely I sense it everywhere in my body. Each time he draws back, my inner muscles throb in relief, only to be stretched again, expanded beyond their limits as he returns. In and out, over and over, the ebb and flow continues at Phil’s current leisurely pace, and I love how he moans, how his hands grip me and stroke me, how he’s clearly enjoying sex at this speed as much—or perhaps more—than I am.

Another orgasm is coiling inside me, so soon after my last. Or maybe hours have passed? How long has he been thrusting extravagantly slowly inside me?

Time no longer matters.

I’m so close, but my body refuses to take me over the cliff. That doesn’t matter, either. I can stay forever like this, I can survive—no thrive—on the edge, right where I am, cresting on the never-ending pleasure of Phil filling and emptying me, repeating the act over and over and over again.

He pulls right out.

I gasp, my insides throbbing.

“Stand up,” he says gruffly.

I look back over my shoulder. He’s backed up to stand nearly twenty feet away from me.

“Why?”

“I want to look at you.” His voice drums across the distance, vibrating inside me.

My teeth scrape my lower lip. I don’t like to be told what to do, but I do like his plan. Dropping off the chair’s arms, I stand on the seat, bending forward over its back.

“No. Face me,” he says.

I turn.

“Stand on the arms.”

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