Page 7 of Breaking His Law

My inner sinner wins.

That’s what I will do. I’ll use him for sex and to get what I want, nothing else, because I’m the one in control here, I’m behind the wheel, pushing forward at full speed.

Although it feels like the other way around by the way he’s controlling my body, and every glance, every touch, every whispered word chips away at my resolve, making me question if I truly have the strength to see this through.

But I have to.

I can’t afford to waver. My family deserves justice, and his family deserves to pay for what they did. No matter how much Iwantanddon’t wantto be here, no matter how much I crave him, I can’t forget why I came in the first place.

So I’ll take what I need tonight, then I’ll ruin him.

Which is a pity because he’s fucking amazing in between the sheets, and I swear his long cock is trying to puncture my cervix, teasing pleasure from my body and awakening every visceral nerve ending. I’m certain if there was an award for having a beautiful cock, he would win.

I can’t stop the flapping of my heart, it’s as uncontrollable as the tide pulls to the moon, magnetic and unescapable.

“Oh God,” I cry out as my back arches off the bed and the heat between my legs grows hotter, coating his cock in my arousal.

“Not God, baby, it’s Nathan.” He punctuates every word with a hip thrust. “My.”Thrust.“Name.”Thrust.“Is.”Thrust. “Fucking.”Thrust.“Nathan.”Thrust.“Got it?” he says through gritted teeth as he delivers another punishing drive of his hips. “Fuck, Ari, you have to come, your pussy is so tight, it’s squeezing my dick.” Digging his fingertips so hard into the skin of my ass I know they will leave an impression, he holds himself deep as if trying to stop himself from coming.

“Don’t stop,” I beg. I really dislike who I am right now. “Feels so good.” My words come out breathless and needy.

He wraps his hands around my wrists and flattens his muscular tan body against mine, his skin rubbing against my nipples, making them pebble. His abs should be illegal, and I can’t stop looking at his unbelievably handsome face. With his dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and muscles for goddamn days that I want to explore more of, he’s like the poster child for billionaire playboys, which I can’t stand. Beneath all the money, power suits, and private jets, I bet he’s just another spoiled daddy’s brat. But I love how he’s filling me up, pushing my hands above my head, about to give me one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. I know he’s going to ruin me for every other man.

I crumble like a cookie under the weight of my own thoughts and arch my neck back when he licks it, causing a shot of scorching heat to run down my spine.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he mutters against my skin, pressing my wrists into the mattress.

Nathan crashes his mouth over mine, slipping his tongue between the seam of my mouth, and I inhale sharply when he slams his cock in and out repeatedly, teasing my orgasm out of me.

There’s nothing romantic about this—not even close. It’s rough and carnal. I crave it. I want more.

It’s one night only.

Our tongues touching, they twist around each other, tasting, licking, exploring. It’s sinful and illicit in every way as he pummels his hips into mine. I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him closer to me, because I can’t seem to get enough of him.

It feels so right, so good, when it shouldn’t.

It’s so wrong.

Wrongfully right.

“Come,” he mutters against my lips.

My orgasm hits me with force when he commands me to, and I come so hard I see black mixed with shimmering lights flashing behind my vision. It corkscrews around my body, unwinding tension and replacing it with intense pleasure, the feeling so euphoric it feels like it’s setting me free. He comes with me, emptying himself inside of me. I’m grateful he wore a condom because I’m sure I would be pregnant otherwise as he keeps coming, shuddering, roaring my name as if he’s said it a thousand times before and wearing it like a badge of honor. It’s hot and hellish in equal measure because I know I’m not special and he probably does this every weekend, each notch on his bedpost mentally recorded in his brain.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Your pussy is…” He grits his teeth together and touches his forehead against mine, his hot breath dusting my face, and he douses me in his spicy scent I want to know the name of.

No, I don’t; he smells like poor choices and bad ideas.

I clench my inner walls around him, pulling every drop of cum out of him, as he jerks and slides himself in and out of my body, much slower now as if he can’t stop. I don’t want him to; he feels incredible inside me.

He kisses my forehead, then my temple, before moving to my cheek and then kisses my lips again. It’s intimate and makes my heart feel like it’s galloping faster than a racehorse about to cross the winning line.

It’s too much.

“Still hate me?” he asks, staring down at me, sounding pleased with himself. “Even after I gave you one of the best orgasms of your life?”

Looking up at him, it takes every piece of self-restraint within me not to smile. “You’re an arrogant asshole.” My tone is snarky and brat-like. There is no way I’m telling him how earth shattering my orgasm was.

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