Page 66 of Pen Pal

“You feel damn divine, baby,” he groaned, pinching and rolling my clit between his fingers. “Like my personal fuckingparadise.”

I cried out as I shook, stars bursting behind my eyes as I obliterated, my pussy fluttering around Enzo’s cock. It hit me like a truck, running me over with pure rapture, blinding everything else as it consumed me. For the first time in my life, I felt myself squirt, the rapture squeezing my pussy so tightly I thought it would clamp shut forever. He maintained a bruising, overwhelming pace, drawing out my intense, white-hot orgasm.

He was moving slowly and deliberately, dragging out every ripple of sensation. It was as if he were imprinting himself inside me, reshaping me from the inside out.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, nails raking at his flesh. I needed to hold onto something, needed an anchor because my mind was unraveling, untethering from what I used to be. Who I used to be.

Enzo smiled against my throat, inhaling deep, drinking in the scent of copper, sweat, and ruin.

“There’s nothing left of you, is there?” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting against my skin. “No past, no home, no self.”

My chest rose and fell in shallow, erratic breaths. He was right. I’d spent years fighting, resisting, trying to pretend that I had control. But now? I was nothing but a vessel for hiswill.

And I didn’t want it any other way.

A strangled sound let my throat—not quite a sob, not quite a moan. Enzo caught it between his teeth, biting into my lip until I tasted the metallic sweetness of my own blood.

His tongue licked away the crimson drops, savoring me like his last meal.

“Say it,” he murmured, grinding deeper, forcing me to feel every inch of his ownership.

I gasped, teetering on the edge of bliss and oblivion.

“Say. It.” He groaned, his words punctuated with each thrust.

“I belong to you,” I choked out.

His hands shot up, fisting my hair, yanking my head back. His smile was savage. “You don’t just belong to me,” he growled, his grip tightening, making my scalp prickle with pain. “Youareme now.”

My breath hitched. He released my hair, his fingers moving lower, trailing down my throat, pressing lightly at my pulse.

“Your heart beats because I allow it,” he continued, trailing his nailslower, over my collarbone, between my breasts. “Your breath exists because I permit it.”

His touch reached my stomach, fingers pressing possessively over my womb. “If I want you swollen with my child, you’ll take it,” his voice was silky yet solid like steel.

“I’m on birth control,” I informed him.

His grin was cruel and calculating. “Are you? When was your last shot?”

He was right; it’d been months, and my periods were regular again. A thrill shot through me at the thought that I could get pregnant with his child and that he was so desperate to possess me that he took that choice from me.

“If I want to carve you open and see what’s inside, you’ll let me.”

My stomach tightened at the horror and thrill of it because he wasn’t wrong. I’d let him; I’d let him do anything.

His weight shifted, and for a moment, I thought he was done and that he’d let me rest.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I heard the slick, metallic sound of a knife being unsheathed. But this one wasn’t mine; it was his, the one he used on mebefore.

A fresh spike of fear laced through my euphoria, twisting pleasure into something sharper.

“Shh,” he commanded, dragging the flat of the blade over my skin, leaving cold trails along the paths his fingers had already claimed. “You trust me?”

I swallowed hard. If he’d asked me weeks ago, I would’ve said no. But after what he’d done for me, the answer came easy. “Yes.”

He hummed in approval, pressing the blade into my skin, a spike of pain shooting through me. The first cut was small and shallow, a thin line just above my hipbone. The pain was sharp but fleeting, giving way to warmth as blood trickled down my side.

“Perfect,” he murmured, watching it bead, fascinated.

---