Page 47 of Living on the Edge

Those pretty green eyes blink open as she tries to focus.

I tug her hair a little harder. “How much pain is too much, Ryleigh?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Then we’re going to find out.” I slap her ass cheek with enough force to make her yelp, but she doesn’t pull away. In fact, her pussy spasms a little.

“I’m going to fuck you until it hurts,” I grunt. “If it becomes too much, just say stop. You understand?”

“Yes…” She’s breathless, her eyes at half-mast.

“You understand you can ask me to stop at any time? Say it, because I’m going to push your limits, baby.”

“I understand… I can ask you to stop…if it’s too much.”

With that, I tug her up by the hair, so she’s essentially impaled on my cock, her back against my front.

“Play with your breasts,” I tell her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “Pinch those nipples until it hurts.”

She whimpers but moves her hands up to her chest. She’s awkward at first, so I give her time to figure out her rhythm.

I’ve got one hand fisted in her hair and the other around her waist, so she doesn’t fall since I’m so much taller.

“Get the vibrator,” I say. “Put it on low.”

She twists and bends, grabbing for it, and turns it on the correct speed.

“Put it against your clit.” I watch as she moves it into place.

Then I push further into her.

“Look how sexy we are,” I breathe against her ear. “I want you to remember how it looks when I fuck you.”

She shivers a little.

“And the next time you fuck someone else, make sure you have this picture in your mind.”

She tenses for a moment.

That was a dickish thing to say—I don’t even know why I said it—but a white-hot shot of jealousy scorched my psyche as the words slipped out.

I bat away the unfamiliar emotion and put my hands on her hips so I can start lifting and lowering her, bottoming out roughly every time.

“Angus!” She cries out, her hands on my forearms as she struggles to maintain her balance.

“That’s my good girl—show me how much you like my cock ramming into your pussy.”

The dirtier I talk, the wetter she gets, and I feel her arousal pooling between us.

“Pull your hair back away from your face—I want to watch you when you come for me.”

She fumbles for her hair and I pick up speed.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and what I see there is terrifying—lust and need and submission. And I’m not talking about BDSM. She’s completely giving herself to me. As if I somehow deserve it. Her.

Fuck.

I force my eyes closed and pump harder, faster, until I can’t remember a time that anything else ever felt so good.

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