Page 45 of Unholy Union
Cato works his dick into me like he’d done with his fingers, thrusting in and then out. He starts off shallowly, only a few inches. Then he drives deeper, slipping more of himself inside. His thrusts go from slow to more forceful.
Setting the tone for what’s to come.
Soon it feels like his entire cock is sliding deep down my narrow passage. He’s sinking into me and groaning as he grips me in his bruising hands only to withdraw again. He pulls back, stopping at the head, then starts it over.
His thrusts come hard and rough. His balls slap against my pussy. The only sound in the room comes from our flesh colliding and the guttural, breathy sounds we make.
The moans and whimpers I try my damnedest to stifle. His groans of pleasure and the filthy words he speaks as he tears my ass open from the inside.
“That’s it—cry for me, principessa. You act like a brat, you get fucked like one,” he growls, his hips crashing against me. He grips my bound wrists, riding me so hard that bright stars flashbeneath my closed eyelids. “You feel that? That’s what it means to belong to me. Every inch of you is mine to use. Mine to ruin.”
He tunnels in deep, fucking me in the ass without an ounce of mercy. With none of the care or consideration he’d shown earlier.
All bets are off as I’m forced to kneel and take it.
And I do. I press my face into the duvet and lose all pretense. Resolve vanishes, and I can’t hold in the screams or moans or whimpers another second.
Certainly not when he curls over me and sinks three fingers into my soaked pussy. I buck against him as pleasure rises inside me like a tidal wave.
I’m immediately close. Immediately right on the edge of coming.
“You’re doing so well,” he growls, fingers hooked deep inside my pussy. His hips slam back into me. His cock spreads me open wider than I ever thought I could go. “I’ll make you my filthy little whore yet. So innocent on the outside. So fucking filthy on the inside.”
I cry out as his fingers stimulate my sweet spot and finally my orgasm crashes over me.
Hot, bright sparks explode like fireworks. Easily the hardest orgasm I’ve ever had in my life, one that leaves me reeling.
My whole body seizes, spine bowed against Cato.
But he doesn’t let it slow him down. He drives into me again and again as I’m coming. I go limp, flattening against the mattress as he wrecks what’s left of me. He takes what he wants, fucking my ass ’til the tight heat is too much for him.
Then he’s filling me up. He’s spilling himself inside my sore, achy ass. Every last drop until he has nothing left to give.
He pulls out, heaving for air, slicked in even more sweat than I am. It adds definition to his already sculpted body, highlighting every hard line of muscle.
I’m half out of it, still lying on my stomach, cheek pressed into the duvet as I eye him blearily.
He’s stood up to head into the ensuite to turn on the shower. He returns a moment later, pausing at the sight of me unmoved.
I’m not sure what to make of the expression that passes on his face. Either amusement or pity or maybe both.
“Did I ruin you that much, principessa?” he asks, walking back over. He reaches for my wrists and finally undoes the knot binding them together. His arms slide under me, scooping me up off the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up—and hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
I let him think he’s won for the night. He can believe what he wants. That’s how the best traps work.
As if living under the Valente roof and taking the name aren’t bad enough, he’s now marked mybody.
I catch sight of the bruise as I’m buttoning the last hole on my blouse. Right there, at the base of my throat, where his fingers had curled, is the imprint he’s left on me.
The mottled splotch is like a tattoo of his fingerprints on my skin. The indigo and burgundy coloring suffuse into a hideous reminder every time I look in the mirror, forcing me to think about how the man I hate most had spanked my ass with his belt, then fucked my ass to my hardest orgasm of my life, making me come so hard I still feel hungover the morning after.
Whether I wanted it or not; in fact, it seemed the more I protested and harder I fought, the stronger the lust became.
The more my body betrayed me.
And Cato knew this, as he wielded dominance like a weapon and inflicted untold levels of pleasure-pain on my body.
Before I knew what hit me, I was coming again and then again. I was vibrating from the hot, tingling waves that racked through me and left me feeling like I was floating.
