Page 57 of Until the Ink runs Crimson

I pull back and slam into her again, harder, punishing, relentless. The bedframe creaks beneath us, the sound a rhythmic and obscene echo to our bodies colliding. Her legs wrap around my waist, her ankles locking behind me, pulling me deeper, forcing me closer.

Her moans turn into gasps, her body trembling beneath me, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge again. I drop my mouth to her throat, biting and sucking, marking her as mine with a possessive hunger. She’s mine—everything about her, from the way she feels to the sounds she makes, is mine.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” I growl, my teeth grazing her ear. “You pretend you don’t, but you’re dripping for me. Begging without words.”

Her answer is a cry, a helpless, filthy sound as I reach down and circle her clit with two fingers, fast and merciless. Her whole body jolts, and I feel her pussy clench tightly around my cock, a sign that she’s close.

“I’m going to fuck you through another orgasm,” I snarl, my voice rough with lust. “You’re going to scream for me again. Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

She shakes her head, but her body betrays her. Her hips meet mine with frantic urgency, fucking herself on my length, chasing every thrust, every second of pleasure like she’s starving for it.

“God—Lazaro—fuck—fuck—please—” she gasps, the words slipping from her mouth in a desperate plea.

“What do you want, Calista?” My voice is dark, purring with hunger as I push deeper, my thrusts faster, more brutal. “Say it.”

“I want—fuck—I want to come—please, I need to come—” Her voice is broken, but her desperation is clear.

I don't give her time to beg any longer. Without warning, I shift her, pulling her onto all fours, positioning her perfectly beneath me. I thrust into her from behind, deep and hard, watching her back arch as she moans, her body jolting with the force. Her hands brace against the bed as I grip her hips, pulling her closer, driving deeper with each thrust.

“Who’s a good girl?” I ask, my voice thick with demand, filled with power.

She doesn't answer right away but I’m losing patience. I thrust harder, my body meeting hers with a resounding slap of skin on skin.

"Tell me… who’s a good girl?" I repeat, more forcefully this time, pressing myself deeper as I feel the rhythm of her body give in to mine.

Finally, she gasps out, breathless and desperate, “I am… I’m a good girl.”

That sweet sound of submission only spurs me on. I lean down, my hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back as I kiss the side of her neck, my other hand sliding to cup her breast, squeezing it with possessive hunger. Her body trembles beneath me, pushing against me, searching for that release I know she’s craving.

“Yes, you are.”

With every thrust, I feel her become more and more mine, her moans becoming louder, more urgent. The sound of her pleasure fills the room, a symphony of desire.

I groan as I feel her body moving beneath me, the rhythm of her hips meeting mine with each thrust. The way she looks in front of me—arched and open, vulnerable but undeniably powerful—sends a pulse of heat straight to my core. There's something intoxicating about the way she surrenders, and the way she still retains that fire, even when she's lost in the moment. It drives me wild.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” I growl, my hands gripping her tighter, pulling her back into each thrust. I can’t get enough of her—the soft curve of her body beneath mine, the way her skin glistens with sweat, the way she moans as I take her harder, deeper.

I love the way she looks in front of me, her body trembling with need, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her face flushed with desire. She’s so goddamn beautiful in this moment, every inch of her perfect, a sight I could lose myself in forever. The sight of her—unraveling, becoming undone by me—only makes me want to push harder, drive deeper, until we’re both lost in the abyss.

Her moans become more desperate, each one more urgent than the last, and it fuels the fire building inside me. I’m going to take her until she can’t remember her own name, until every inch of her belongs to me.

“Tell me you want more,” I murmur through clenched teeth, feeling the heat between us rise as I thrust harder.

She gasps, her body responding instantly. “I want more, Lazaro. Please.”

That’s all I need. My fingers grip her hair tighter as I pull her head back, forcing her to take every inch of me, my other hand coming down to slap her ass with a loud, echoing crack. She gasps again, her body jolting from the impact, but I know she loves it. She’s mine in this moment—my hands on her, my cock inside her, claiming every part of her.

The pace quickens, each movement rougher, more desperate. The bed creaks beneath us, our bodies colliding with a rhythm that feels primal, like nothing else matters but this. Her hands grip the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she moves against me, her body aching for release.

“I’m going to make you come again,” I grunt, the pressure building as I lose myself in her. “And you’re going to scream my name when you do.”

Her body shakes, and I know she’s close—so fucking close. I feel it in the way she tightens around me, in the way her breath becomes shallow and broken. She’s on the edge, and I’m going to push her over it.

With one final deep thrust, I feel her body convulse, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave. She screams my name, her body trembling violently beneath me as I hold her through it, feeling every wave of her release, every shudder.

The sound of her pleasure drives me over the edge, and I follow her, my own release crashing over me as I empty myself inside her, every last inch of me giving in to the force of what we’ve created together.

We collapse against the bed, breathless and tangled in each other’s arms. The room is heavy with sweat and the aftermath of our passion, both of us trembling, trying to catch our breath.

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