Page 97 of Filthy Promises

But mostly, I’m aware of him watching me.

Drinking in every second of my undoing.

Memorizing the way I look when I’m completely at his mercy.

When I’m almost done twitching with aftershocks, he pulls out of me. The absence makes me whimper.

He crawls up my body, his erection pressing against my oversensitive core. “Was it worth the wait, Ms. St. Clair?”

“Yes,” I breathe without thinking. “It’s worth everything.”

He grins. His lips are streaked with my juices and his eyes are burning coals. “You haven’t even tasted the true worth yet.”

I can’t stop my answering moan.

“Protection?” he asks, voice strained with the effort of control.

I reach for the drawer in my coffee table, extracting a condom that’s been there too long, waiting for a man who never measured up to the fantasy in my head.

The exact same fantasy who’s now kneeling between my thighs, rolling latex down his length.

He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my core. Our eyes lock. Something passesbetween us—an acknowledgment that, whatever happens next, there’s no going back.

“Tell me one more time,” he says, his voice barely recognizable. “Tell me you want this. I want to make sure you?—”

“I want this.” The words come easily now. I want to give him every single thing he could ever ask of me. Take me from any angle, destroy me, give me or take me or hurl me out of the fucking window if that’s what he craves. “I want you.”

He nods. “So be it.”

Then he pushes inside in one brutal thrust, and I scream—from pain, from pleasure, from the overwhelming fullness of finally having him inside me after years of desperate wanting.

He stills, allowing me to adjust to his size, his forehead pressed against mine.

For one heartbeat, two, we stay suspended in this moment of connection.

Then he begins to move, and the world erupts around us.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he fucks me. He pins me down, one hand gripping my thigh to spread me wider, the other tangled in my hair, forcing me to maintain eye contact as he splits me apart.

“Is this what you wanted?” he demands, voice raw. “To be fucked by a monster?”

“Yes,” I gasp, beyond pride, beyond shame. “God, yes.”

His rhythm falters at my honesty, something vulnerable flashing across his features before the mask slams back into place.

He hooks my leg over his shoulder, driving deeper, hitting a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

“Say my name,” he commands. “I want to hear it when you come.”

The pressure builds inside me, a tidal wave gathering force. I’m balanced on the knife’s edge of pleasure.

I can’t take it.

I can’t?—

I can’t?—

“Vince,” I whisper, then louder as he drives into me harder, faster. “Vince!”

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