Page 36 of His Orders

“I love your cock,” I cry, hips rocking to meet every thrust. “I love the way you use me. Please don’t stop, please!”

He shifts beneath me. Suddenly, I’m on my stomach, face pressed to the mattress, and he’s behind me, pulling my hips up.

Then he slams into meagain, deeper now, harder at this angle, and I scream his name.

His hand tangles in my hair, yanking me back just enough.

“Such a good girl,” he growls in my ear. “You take everything I give you, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll take it—take all of it, Ethan!”

He drives in harder, cock pounding deep, the wet slap of our bodies dirty and fast. His other hand grips my waist, guiding me back into every thrust, until the rhythm is merciless.

I sob into the mattress, overwhelmed, split wide—but Iloveit.

“I can’t… I’m gonna?—”

“You’re gonna come for me,” he snarls, “and then I’m going to keep going until I fill this pussy with every drop I’ve got.”

My body locks. My orgasm rips through me, so sharp and consuming that I scream, mouth open against the sheets, whole body convulsing around his cock.

He keeps fucking me through it, like heneedsto feel every last tremor.

Then his hand moves from my hip. It slides up my stomach, then higher, until he cups one of my breasts, squeezing hard. His thumb flicks over the peak, teasing, circling, then pinching just sharp enough to make me gasp.

“You love when I touch you here,” he says, voice thick and dark. “You go soft for me the second I get my hands on these tits.”

I arch into him, needy and desperate, silently begging for more.

He leans over me, mouth dragging hot over my spine. When he reaches my shoulder, he bites—not gently. I cry out, my core clenching around him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he groans. “You feel that? You like it when I bite, don’t you?”

I nod, panting. “Yes. Harder. Please, Ethan.”

His hand leaves my breast, slides between my legs, and then he’s rubbing my clit in tight circles while still thrusting into me from behind. My thighs tremble. My arms nearly give out.

“You’re shaking already,” he says, smug and rough. “You gonna come for me again?”

“I can’t,” I sob. “It’s too much?—”

“Yes, you can.” He slaps my ass, not playful, but punishing. “You’re going to come every time I tell you to.”

My orgasm builds too fast to fight. My body locks, my breath stops, and I explode—loud, uncontrollable, soaking his cock as I cry out for him.

He hisses, then growls deeply and possessively.

“You’re fucking soaking me. Dripping down my balls, baby. You like making a mess for me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, half-broken. “I love it. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“You want to milk me, sweetheart?”

“I want it so deep I feel you for days.”

That’s when he grabs me. Just wraps both arms around my waist, pulls out, and spins me. My legs barely work but he catches me, lifts me in his lap, and sinks me back down on his cock while we’re face-to-face.

I moan into his mouth as he kisses me—wet, open, messy. His hands roam my back, my ass, one sliding back between my legs as he fucks up into me from beneath.

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