Page 92 of Born for Lace

Pleasure stirs inside me.

“That’s it,” Lagos rasps. “Take your Shadow’s big cock, little flower. It’s too late now. You’re defiled. You’re mine.”

Climbing up my trembling side, his hand stops in the crook of my neck. He juts his hips in a way that strokes over the little nerve ending above my entrance.

“Come,” he demands, and my ears burn as if he bit down on them.

The room melts away again. Nothing but us. Nothing but him inside me. Making my body his. Making the space between my thighs shaped for him. Shaping me so thoroughly, I’ll never feel right without him, not between my legs, not in my lungs, or low in my belly.

I climax again, the muscles enclosing his dick spasming, my legs jerking at his backside, cries pummelling through my lips. He will feel me—feel mepulsing.I bury my face further into his hot, hard chest, mortified by that.

“Your pussy is sogood.”

This Xin De male was designed to murder, but every inch of him seems built for this. To completely unravel a girl. Even with the pain—the stretch—his rhythm is flawless and exact, his attention to detail unwavering.

His thrusting continues.

He slides along tender places inside me, over and over, coiling me again and again until I’m a cluster of pathetic yearning. Feverish. Stretched.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. “Come for me again.” And I tremble through another climax.

“Please…” I paw at him with my free hand. He doesn’t appear to be slowing or growing tired. Panic fills my chest.

I don’t know how much time passes or whether it’s night or first-light, but my body is no longer mine.

My body pulses on the blanket to his rhythm. In my peripherals, I see a blur of activity. Dropping my cheek to the blanket, I meet my own gaze. Caught beneath the huge body of the male, my legs jerking at his backside, but it’s him…

I climax again, watching him.

The sight of him over me, in me, is the most impossibly erotic sight. His hand still holds mine above my head, his arse clenching and unclenching, biceps bulking out, and his eyes… closed below brows weaved with agonising pleasure.

“I’m going to fill this little body,” he warns. “You’re going to be swollen and sore tomorrow, with my scent all over you, so there is no mistaking you’re—” He growls, “Mine.”

Soon, his pace falters, his hands paw restlessly, and every part of him—arms, back, shoulders, neck, dick— tighten and build over me.

“Fuck.” He bundles me even closer as he beats his hips, cum shooting into my depths. “Good girl. My very good little flower…Fuck.”

I close my eyes. Tingles set to race across my arms and up my thighs. The air is thick, magnetic, spinning me. I think I lose time, but…

His dick slides from inside me; his lips meet mine and we share heavy, exhausted breaths.

Heaving, I barely kiss back as his lips take over, tugging at mine. That is what he does. He takes, and I give. And I never want it any other way.

“Look at me,” Lagos demands.

I force my eyes open.

“You’re mine,” he says, daring me to object, engraving his claim into my mind while the feel of his hot cum drips down my thighs in thick rivers. “Say it.”

My voice is soft. “I’m yours.”

“If Tomar touches you?—”

“Lagos.”

“Listen!” He grabs the side of my neck, forcing my eyes to him. “If he looks at you in a way that would displease me, I need you to tell me.”

“Do we have to do this no?—”

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