Page 35 of His Orders

He moans into it like he’s proud of what he’s done, like he wants every drop. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking me with his fingers, keeps sucking my clit through it, making me writhe, overstimulated and dripping.

“God, look at you,” he growls against me. “Fucking soaked. You made a mess all over my face, baby.”

His mouth returns, softer now but still relentless. He licks up everything, cleans me with slow, deliberate strokes that make me flinch and tremble. His stubble scrapes against sensitive skin as he kisses my inner thighs, then bites again—possessive, almost brutal.

When he finally rises, his mouth is slick, jaw flushed, eyes dark with heat. He looks like a man who’s tasted his purpose and decided he’s never letting it go.

“I should keep you here,” he says, low and wrecked, “on this table, pussy wet and open for my cock until you can’t walk straight.”

And the worst part is—I want it. Every fucking second of it. So I stare at him, my mouth parted, and lick my lower lip. “How about you show me?”

He doesn’t give me a moment to recover. One second, his mouth is wet and hot between my legs. The next, I’m gasping as he pulls away, already stripping his jeans down just far enough to free his cock.

It’s thick, flushed, dripping precum from the tip—and fuck, it looks angry.

“You wanted this,” he says, stroking himself as he steps closer. “So now you’re going to take it.”

“Yes,” I breathe. My voice is already trembling. “I want all of it.”

He grabs my thighs, yanks me back to the edge of the table, and lines himself up with no hesitation. The head of his cock pushesagainst my entrance, parting me inch by inch until he slams inside in one thrust.

I cry out, head snapping back. The fullness is too much—and yet not enough.

“Fuck,” he groans through clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking tight. Look at how you grip me.”

He pulls back and thrusts again, harder, deeper. I slide an inch on the table from the force, and he grins like he loves it.

“Gonna ruin this pussy,” he mutters, hands gripping my hips so tight I know I’ll feel it later. “Make sure no one else can touch you without tasting me.”

I moan when he bottoms out again. My hands flail for balance, finally clutching the edge of the table as he picks up the rhythm.

He fucks me hard, but not mindlessly. He watches every reaction, every breath, every twitch of my body. His cock drags over that spot inside me that makes my vision blur, again and again, until I’m soaked and shaking, tightening around him with every thrust.

The table creaks beneath us, and still he fucks me harder. Every movement forces a gasp from my mouth.

“Yes,yes, Ethan,” I whimper, voice high and frantic. “Just like that. Give it to me. I’m your good girl, please!”

His hands tighten. His hips slam forward, burying his cock to the hilt.

“Say it again.”

“I’m your good girl.”

He snarls, grabs me by the thighs, andlifts me—cock still buried inside me. My arms wrap around his neck as he carries me across the room like I weigh nothing, still impaled on him, every step making me gasp.

“Don’t drop me,” I pant against his shoulder, clinging tighter.

“Never.” His lips are at my ear, breath hot. “You’re mine, baby. And I’m going to fuck you until you scream it.”

He drops to the bed, falling back with me straddling his lap. His cock shifts deep inside me as I sit up, thighs shaking. But I don’t get long. He plants his feet and thrusts up hard, and I cry out, body slamming down onto him again and again.

My hands scramble for his chest as he fucks me from below, eyes locked on mine.

“You feel that?” he grits. “That’s what happens when my good girl begs for cock.”

“Ethan—”

“Don’t stop talking.”

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