Page 237 of Let Me In

He rises onto his knees, stripping fast—shirt already gone, belt undone in a single yank, pants shoved down. He doesn’t look away from me once. Not when he wraps his fist around his cock, not when he strokes once, twice, like he’s trying not to lose it too soon.

“You don’t get to touch right now,” he says it so quietly, I whimper.

“You’re going to lie there and let me take what’s mine. Every inch of it.”

He settles back between my thighs, hands braced wide on either side of my head.

“Eyes on me,” he orders.

Then he thrusts into me in one unrelenting stroke—deep, thick, devastating—and I cry out, the sound torn from my throat like it’s been waiting there, caged.

My back arches off the bed, body trembling with the shock and stretch of him, the way he fills me all at once, claiming every inch. My vision whites out for a second, breath leaving my lungs, and Cal just lets out a ragged, feral sound—half-groan, half-growl, like it’s taking everything in him to hold back.

“That’s it,” he rumbles, voice wrecked and dark. “That’s what I fucking wanted.”

He doesn’t move at first—just stays there, buried to the hilt, letting me feel every inch of him. Letting me know who I belong to.

“Do you feel that, baby?” he breathes, voice thick with restraint. “How deep I am?”

“Yes—”

He grinds his hips.

“You’re going to feel it for days.”

Then he pulls back—slow, brutal, measured—and slams into me again.

The bed jolts. I cry out.

He locks his arms around me, one forearm braced beside my head, the other hand sliding under my ass to lift me into each thrust.

“You’re mine.”

Another thrust, harder.

“You’re gonna take every inch.”

Another. Deeper.

I sob out something broken—half plea, half yes—and he moans like it fuels him.

His pace is relentless. No teasing. No mercy. Just deep, dragging thrusts that punch the breath from my lungs and leave me boneless beneath him.

“Say it,” he pants. “Tell Daddy who you belong to.”

“You—Cal—Daddy—I’m yours—”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours!”

His mouth devours mine, tongue pushing deep, devouring every word, every sound. His hips never stop. Never even slow.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he murmurs against my lips. “You hear me?”

I shake my head, helpless.

His hand slips between us, finds my clit—slick and swollen and already pulsing—and rubs in tight, devastating circles.

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