Page 8 of Owned

Maryam lets out this soft, desperate little sound, and I lose all restraint.

* * *

MARYAM

I’ve never felt like this before. Like I’m burning up from the inside out, like my body isn’t my own anymore.

Riku is everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his hard cock, his weight pressing me down in the best possible way. I should feel overwhelmed, but I don’t. I feel… Safe. Wanted. Fucking worshiped. And it’s intoxicating.

His mouth trails lower, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me open like he already knows I won’t stop him. And I won’t. I can’t.

Not when his voice goes dark and possessive against my skin. “You’re mine.”

His lips brush my stomach, and I swear my entire world tilts. I completely sink into him. And I don’t ever want to come back up.

* * *

RIKU

She’s a fucking dream. Soft, warm, exactly where she belongs. Her body arches into mine, her breath coming in uneven little gasps, her fingers digging into my shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life. And I fucking love it. Love how sensitive she is. How eager. How she doesn’t hold back—not her sounds, not theway she grabs at me, not the way she takes every fucking thing I give her.

Her dress is nothing but a scrap of fabric pooled at her waist, and I take my time peeling it away, exposing smooth brown skin inch by fucking inch.

Her breath shudders when my fingers graze her bare thigh, tracing up, teasing.

I smirk. “Look at you,” I murmur, dragging my knuckles over the lace covering her body.

Maryam shivers. I groan, my control slipping. I slide my hands up, palming her waist, memorizing every dip, every soft, perfect curve. She lets out the sweetest little sound, and it goes straight to my cock.

I press a knee between her thighs, spreading her wider.

“Riku—”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

Maryam trembles at my words. She’s soft and warm under me, her body trembling, her nails biting into my skin like she’s barely hanging on by a thread. I want her like this. Needy, hungry for me, burning. Mine.

Her breath stutters when my hands slide lower, fingers tracing the waistband of her panties, teasing the soft, heated skin beneath. She squirms. Impatient. Restless. Ready.

I grip her thighs, spreading them wider, watching as her body opens up for me, slick and wanting. Fuck!

I press my palm flat against her, feel the way she shudders, the way she gasps, the way her hips lift — fucking begging.

I drag a finger down, slow and deliberate, just to hear that sweet, breathy little sound she makes when I finally touch her where she needs it the most. Her head falls back, her mouth parts, her hands tighten on my arms.

I groan. Can’t wait anymore. I hook my fingers into the lace, rip it away, dragging the ruined fabric down her thighs, over her calves, tossing it aside.

She’s bare now. All fucking mine.

I settle between her thighs, grip her hips, and take her in. She’s glistening, slick and swollen, her body already so fucking ready for me. I drag my fingers through her folds, pressing just enough to make her breath catch, just enough to make her hips jerk up, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” I murmur, watching her fall apart.

She whimpers, her thighs trembling around me. I slide a finger inside, slow and deep, watching as she gasps, her body clenching around me. So tight. So fucking perfect.

I add another, stretching her, preparing her, feeling her pussy adjust to me. She moans, arches, writhes, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

I need more. I need to be inside her.

---