Page 66 of The Break Down

I line myself up, nudging her slick heat with the tip of my cock—and pause.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to look into her eyes and say, “This isn’t just tonight, Red. You’re mine now.”

And then I thrust into her.

We both groan—raw, loud, unrestrained.

She’s tight.

Hot. Wet.

Fucking perfect.

And she takes every inch of me like her body was made for mine.

I bottom out with a grinding roll of my hips, her head thrown back, her hands clawing at my arms.

“Fuck. You feel like heaven,” I growl. “Like sin and salvation all at once.”

And then I move.

Slow at first.

Deep. Stretching her tight sheath.

Giving her every inch, dragging it out until she’s writhing and begging and whispering filthy things in my ear.

Then, I let go.

Her eyes roll back into her head, and I allow it for a moment. But the truth is I want them on me.

So I reach for her, my tattooed, bronzed hand moves around her neck, and her crystalline eyes shoot open, finding me like emerald lasers.

“Eyes on me, Red. Watch while I fuck you.”

It’s lewd. Crass. Fucking barbaric. But I need it. And she does it.

Proving she was made for me.

Then I fuck her like I want her tattooed on my soul.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with her moans, my name, her gasps when I hit that perfect spot again and again.

I grip her thigh, shove it higher over my shoulder, and piston into her until she’s sobbing—literally sobbing—from the pressure, the pleasure, the overload.

“Koa—I’m gonna—I’m gonna?—”

“Do it, Red. Let me feel you fall apart. Let me see what you got.”

“Oh my God!”

“That’s it. Come all over my cock. Soak this fucking mattress.”

She shatters again, her fingernails dig into my arms as her body starts convulsing, pussy clenching, and breath coming out in short, strangled pants—and I swear the room fucking tilts.

Her pleasure triggers mine.

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