Page 128 of Cruel Deception
He undressed me like he was unwrapping something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch.
Not something to break.
Something to believe in.
And I let him.
Every guarded piece of me.
Every scar.
Every silent ache I carried in the dark—I gave it all.
He groans, low and guttural, his hands grabbing my face, fingers digging into my jaw.
His lips crash into mine, hard, tongue shoving deep, tasting of whiskey and need.
I moan, my hands clawing his shirt, my body hot, dress sticking to my sweaty skin. He pulls back, eyes burning, and lifts me onto the desk, the wood creaking, papers crunching under my ass.
“You’re mine,” he growls, yanking my dress up, tearing my underwear off with a rip. My thighs spread, my core already wet, pulsing.
He unzips his trousers, his dick springing free—thick, hard, veins bulging. He grips it, lines up, and thrusts into me, his cock stretching me, a sharp sting turning to heat.
I cry out, my hands gripping the desk’s edge, the table vibrating as he fucks me hard, his hips slamming into mine, each thrust shaking my body.
“Fuck, Charlotte,” he groans, his voice rough, hot in my ear, his breath ragged as he pounds into me, his dick hitting deep, relentless.
My legs tremble, jelly under me, my dress damp, clinging to my thighs, my core clenching around him.
The desk rattles, wood groaning, papers sliding off as he fucks me harder, his hands bruising my hips, pulling me into each thrust.
I moan, loud, my clit throbbing, my body burning, sweat dripping down my back. “Cassian,” I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders, my orgasm building fast.
He slows, teasing, then slams deeper, pushing me over the edge. I scream, my core pulsing, tightening around his cock, my vision blurring, legs shaking as I come, my body shuddering against the vibrating desk.
He doesn’t stop, his dick still hard, pulsing inside me.
He pulls out, flips me over, my stomach pressed to the desk, my feet barely touching the floor, my dress bunched at my waist. “Not done,” he grunts, his voice thick, and shoves his cock back in, deeper from behind, hitting new spots that make me gasp.
The table shakes, creaking louder, as he fucks me hard, his hands gripping my ass, spreading me.
His groans are raw, desperate, vibrating in my ear as he leans over me, his scarred chest against my back, his breath hot. “Feel that?” he growls, thrusting faster, his dick pulsing, filling me.
My hands scrabble at the desk, tearing papers, my moans echoing, my core tightening again. I’m close, my legs weak, my body burning, and I cry his name, “Cassian!” as my orgasm hits, my core clamping down, milking him.
He groans, deep and broken, thrusting once, twice, then comes, his cock pulsing, spilling hot inside me, his body shaking against mine, the desk rattling one last time.
He pulls out, his breath heavy, sweat glistening on his scarred chest.
He turns me to face him, his hands framing my face, firm but not cruel, his eyes raw.
This wasn’t just sex.
It wasn’t even lovemaking.
It was surrender.
Two broken souls colliding, not to destroy, but to survive each other.
