Page 49 of Fat Arranged Mate
She turns her head, eyes wild and challenging despite her vulnerable position. "You can try."
The invitation—the challenge—ignites something primal in me. I lower myself down her body, pulling her thighs up so her feet are flat on the bedsheets. She's already wet, her body betraying how much she wants this even as she refuses to surrender. I spread her legs wider, gripping her thighs with possessive strength. Her scent is intoxicating—earthy and sweet, a perfume no bottle could ever capture. For a moment, I simply look at her, savoring the way she squirms under my gaze.
"Dylan," she breathes, impatience edging her voice.
"Patience," I growl, running my thumbs along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. "I want to taste every inch of you."
When my mouth finally makes contact, her whole body jolts. I drag my tongue through her wetness, deliberate and slow, savoring the salt-sweet flavor of her arousal. Her hands fist in the sheets as I explore her with my tongue, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan.
I grip her hips harder, holding her in place as she tries to rock against me. Her breath comes in short, desperate pants as I devour her, alternating between teasing her with gentle strokes and pressing my tongue flat against her most sensitive spot. I lose myself in the task, in the power of reducing her to wordless pleasure.
"Please," she finally begs, voice breaking. "Dylan, please..."
I smile against her wet flesh, pleased at having broken through her defenses. "Please what, Sera?" I demand, pausing just long enough to speak. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"Don't stop," she gasps, trying to press herself back against my mouth. "I need—"
I tighten my grip, keeping her immobile. "Need what?"
"You," she admits, desperation winning over pride. "Your mouth. I need to come."
Satisfaction surges through me at her surrender. “Good girl. It didn’t take much to mellow you out, did it?”
I hear her draw breath to respond, but as I return to my task with renewed vigor, she screams with pleasure, writhing, wordless with pleasure. I circle her entrance with mytongue, reveling in the way she trembles beneath me. My hands slide under her thighs, lifting her hips higher, exposing her completely to my hungry mouth. The taste of her arousal floods my senses, driving me to devour her with renewed intensity.
"Oh god," she whimpers, her voice breaking as I suck hard on her sensitive bud.
I press my tongue flat against her, establishing a rhythm that has her rocking back against my face. Her thighs quiver on either side of my head, her breathing becoming ragged, desperate. Power surges through me at reducing this fierce, argumentative woman to such raw, primal need.
When I slip two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that makes her back arch, she lets out a sound that's half sob, half moan. I work her relentlessly, my tongue never stopping. I could do this forever, for the rest of my life.
Her entire body suddenly tenses beneath me, thighs clamping around my head as she cries out. I feel her pulsing against my tongue, her inner walls contracting around my fingers as she comes undone completely. The sight of her—head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream, body trembling uncontrollably—is the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
I ease my assault slightly but don't stop, drawing out her pleasure until she's writhing, her usual sharp-tongued defiance reduced to incoherent whimpers. Her body jerks with aftershocks, vulnerable and open in a way I never thought I'd see.
When I finally begin to pull away, satisfied with having broken through her entirely, her hand shoots out to grab my wrist with surprising strength.
"No," she gasps, eyes glazed and unfocused. “Need… need you in me.”
I don't need to be told twice. I rise over her body, positioning myself at her entrance, my hardness pressed against her. For a heartbeat, I hover there, savoring the desperation in her eyes.
"Is this what you want?" I growl, voice barely recognizable.
"Yes," she wails, fingers digging into my shoulders. "Now!"
I thrust into her with one powerful stroke, burying myself to the hilt. We both cry out—her from the sudden fullness, me from the tight, slick heat enveloping me. I pause, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the sight of her beneath me, hair wild across the pillows, lips parted in pleasure.
Then I begin to move.
There's nothing gentle about it. I drive into her with punishing force, each thrust a declaration of ownership, of dominance. She meets each of my thrusts with equal force, her body rising to challenge mine even in this most primal battle. Her nails rake down my back, drawing blood I barely feel through the haze of lust and power surging through me.
"Harder," she demands, voice ragged but still commanding. "Harder, harder, I need it!"
The taunt ignites something feral within me. I withdraw almost completely before slamming back into her with enough force to slide her up the bed. Her eyes widen, a gasp torn from her throat. Before she can recover, I repeat the motion, establishing a punishing rhythm that has the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.
I grip her thigh, pushing it higher, changing the angle until I hit something that makes her entire body jolt. "There," I growl, "is that what you need?"
Her response is unintelligible.
