Page 45 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

Then he grabs me—sudden, forceful.

He lifts me with that brutal strength of his, and I gasp as he shifts me into his lap.

Straddling him backward, my knees brace on either side of his thighs. There isn’t enough space in this damn SUV—but we’re past needing space. We just need each other. Lazaro grunts and shifts beneath me, reaching down to slightly recline his seat, just enough to give him better access. The motion tilts me forward, and I reach instinctively for the dashboard, then the steering wheel, gripping it tight to steady myself. My hands are shaking—whether from anticipation or the way he’s already pulsing against me, I can’t tell.

I yank off my boots and throw them onto the passenger seat, breathless with adrenaline. Lazaro’s hands are already on me, rough with urgency. He shoves my pants and panties down in one motion, not bothering with finesse. His hand stays firm on my waist as the tip of his cock nudges against me, slick and thick and ready. I brace for it, but it still wrecks me. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching me open around him. I can feel every vein, every pulse, every goddamn inch of him as he slides deeper inside, filling me to the hilt.

My back arches, breath shattering. “Oh my fuck,” I gasp, my voice coming out high and wild.

He groans low behind me, like the feel of me around him is too much. "Tight as fuck. You feel that? Every inch of me inside you."

When he bottoms out, he holds still for just a second, buried so deep. The stretch, the pressure, the overwhelming fullness—it crashes into me all at once.

That’s why I scream.

It tears from my throat, raw and uncontrollable, as my hands fly up to the steering wheel, gripping it like it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality. My body trembles, pleasure and intensity flooding my system like a tidal wave. I’ve never felt anything like this—not this deep, not this consuming. He has me completely.

He fills me—deep, perfect, stretching me wide. I can feel every inch of him pulsing inside me, thick and hard and relentless.

His hands are on my waist, digging into my skin as he forces me to move. Up and down. Over and over.

“Just like that,” he growls. “Ride me, baby. Show me how bad you need it.”

His hand slides under my bra without warning, rough palm cupping one breast before he squeezes it firmly. I gasp, the shock of it sparking another jolt of heat between my legs. His fingers find my nipple and he rolls it between his fingertips before pinching it hard—just enough to make me cry out, the bite of pleasure-pain crashing straight through my nerves.

“Fuck—Lazaro,” I moan, arching into his touch, riding him harder now, desperate for more. "Don’t stop.”

He pinches again, his other hand gripping my hip like a vice, guiding every grind of my body against him. The added sensation drives me higher, makes me wilder. I’m not just riding him—I’m losing myself in him.

I moan, louder this time, my voice raw and wrecked. “Lazaro…”

“That’s it. Take it.”

The SUV rocks with each brutal thrust. I’m barely holding on to the wheel, my body completely at his mercy.

He leans forward, biting my shoulder hard enough to bruise. “You gonna come for me like this?”

“Yes,” I gasp.

“Good. Come on me. Make a fucking mess.”

I break.

My body flexes, clenching around him, and I cry out, hips jerking as the orgasm tears through me. He keeps going—relentless—fucking me through it, harder now, chasing his own release.

“Fucking hell, Calla—”

He slams into me one last time and groans against my skin as he comes, his grip bruising on my hips.

We collapse together, breathless, sweat-slicked, shaking.

His arms wrap around my waist, his face buried in my neck. I can feel his breath, warm and uneven, brushing across my shoulder.

Neither of us speaks.

The world outside is still burning. But in here, it’s just us—tangled, ruined, perfect.

“You still hate me?” he murmurs against my skin.

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