Page 80 of Speed Crush

The next thrust is harder. Sharper. A spank lands across my ass, sudden and stinging, and I cry out—not from pain, but from how fast it unravels me.

“You love that, don’t you?” he growls, spanking me again. “Your first time like this, and you’re begging me to ruin you.”

“Yes,” I pant, thrusting myself back into him, desperate. “Please, Noah… more. Take me like you mean it.”

Another spank. Another brutal, perfect thrust. I’m gasping now, rocking into every slap, every stretch, every filthy sound echoing off the hotel walls.

And I know—this isn’t just sex anymore. It’s both of us giving everything. No holding back. No pretending we’re not completely gone for each other.

It’s surrender—to the way we fit each other fully. To the heat and trust and need that’s been building since the moment we met.

Noah leans closer, his mouth hot at my ear. “You feel that, baby? Feel how deep I am? How I’m not stopping until you forget your own name?”

I can only nod, whimpering.

“This isn’t just sex,” he growls. “This is me inside the only woman I want—pushing so deep, I’ll never find my way out.”

He slams into me again, rougher, greedier, and I cry out as my body quakes around him. But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t ease up. Doesn’t give me a second to breathe.

He drives into me again—faster now. Hard. Sharp. Relentless. Like he’s chasing something that can only be caught if we both fall at the same time.

My body jerks forward with every thrust, hands scrambling against the sheets for leverage I can’t find. He pounds into me again and again, so fast I can barely keep up. So deep I swear I feel it in my throat.

Every stroke is brutal and beautiful. A wild rhythm. A lit fuse. A storm I begged for.

“You feel that?” he rasps, voice wrecked. “That’s how bad I need you to come for me.”

I cry out, half-shocked, half-starving. Noah’s thrusts are a demand. A promise. A possession.

“You were made for this,” he pants. “For me.”

I’m right there—teetering, pulsing, desperate to fall.

It’s too much. It’s everything.

Every stroke is savage and perfect, like he’s trying to etch his name inside me. He’s not just taking me—he’s branding me. Unmaking me.

“Come with me,” he rasps, voice ragged. “Now, baby. I want to feel you give in. I want to lose it with you.”

His hand slides between my legs, fingers finding my clit, circling with pressure that unravels me instantly.

I try to hold it. Try to hang on for one more second. But I can’t. I don’t stand a chance.

The orgasm slams into me—hot, electric, unstoppable. My back arches as I cry out, the intense pleasure crashing through me.

Wave after wave, it tears me apart. I shatter around him, muscles seizing tight, nerves sparking like live wire.

A gush pours out of me, wet and uncontrollable, as my body pulses around him, trembling, undone.

Noah groans, low and guttural, and drives into me one last time—then again—then he lets go, hips snapping forward as he loses himself completely.

He groans my name like a prayer, spilling into the condom with a sound that’s pure worship.

We collapse together, skin slick, breath tangled, still shaking. And for one long, aching moment, nothing else exists but this.

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