Page 50 of Fat Arranged Mate
I slam into her again, watching her eyes roll back as she claws at my shoulders. The sight of her—writhing beneath me, helpless with pleasure—feeds something primal in me that I've kept locked away too long.
"You like that?" I growl, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, angling her body to take me deeper.
She can't even form words anymore, just desperate, keening sounds that drive me wild. I hook my hands under her knees, pushing them toward her chest, opening her completely to my assault. The new angle lets me penetrate her impossibly deeper, and she throws her head back, a strangled cry tearing from her throat.
I'm relentless, driving into her with punishing force, our bodies slapping together in a rhythm as ancient as time. Sweat drips from my forehead onto her heaving chest as I pound into her.
I feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, my control slipping with each thrust. Sera's eyes are half-lidded, her mouth open in a continuous moan that's driving me wild. I can't hold back anymore.
"I'm going to come inside you," I growl against her ear, my rhythm becoming erratic.
"Yes," she gasps, her inner walls clenching around me. "Fill me, Dylan. Please."
Her plea shatters the last of my restraint. With a final, brutal thrust, I bury myself deep inside her as pleasuretears through me. I groan, my entire body shuddering as I empty myself, pulse after pulse, marking her from within. The sensation is overwhelming—more intense than anything I've ever felt before.
But I'm not done with her yet.
Still buried inside her, still feeling the aftershocks of my release, I slide my hand between us. Her eyes widen as my thumb finds her sensitive bud, circling it with firm, deliberate pressure, pinching and rolling and rubbing her most sensitive place.
"One more," I command, my voice hoarse with exertion. "You’re gonna give me one more."
She shakes her head, her body trembling. "I can't—too much—"
"You can," I insist, working my thumb in tight circles while I remain buried inside her. I can feel myself still pulsing within her heat, our combined wetness making my movements slick and effortless.
Her breathing becomes erratic, her eyes unfocused as I increase the pressure. I'm relentless, using the pad of my thumb to stroke her with precise, knowing movements. Her inner walls clench around me, the sensation nearly unbearable on my oversensitive member.
Her body suddenly tenses beneath my fingers, back arching impossibly high off the bed. I feel her clench around me, stronger than before, her inner walls clamping down on me with such force it's almost painful. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as her entire body convulses around me.
"That's it," I growl, maintaining the pressure, riding out her orgasm.
The convulsions intensify, her body shaking violently beneath me. Her eyes flutter, then close completely as her head falls back against the pillows. The tension in her body releases all at once, and she goes utterly limp.
"Sera?" I say, stilling my movements.
She doesn't respond. I pull my hand away, studying her face. Her breathing is deep and even, lips slightly parted, face completely relaxed in unconsciousness. I'm still buried inside her.
I stare down at her unconscious form, her body marked with the evidence of our passion. Her lips are parted slightly, chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. The sight of her—completely vulnerable, utterly spent—sends an unexpected surge of heat through me. Despite having just found release, I feel myself hardening again inside her.
The realization startles me. Shuddering, I pull out, retreating from her body with a soft, wet sound that seems obscenely loud in the quiet room. A small amount of my release follows, trailing down her thigh, and I have to look away, fighting the urge to push back inside her.
I move away from her, retreating to the edge of the bed. My hands are shaking. This wasn't supposed to happen—not with her, not like this. The intensity of what just transpired between us leaves me unsettled, off-balance in a way I haven't felt in years.
I run a hand through my sweat-dampened hair, trying to collect myself. The room smells of sex and sweat and her.
Rising from the bed, I make my way to the bathroom in the hall on unsteady legs. My reflection in the mirror is a stranger's—eyes wild, lips swollen, shoulders bearing the crescent marks of her nails. I look like a man who's lost something essential, or perhaps found something he never meant to seek.
I turn the shower on, cranking the temperature as hot as it will go. Steam billows around me as I step under the punishing spray, hoping the scalding water might wash away the confusion that clings to me more persistently than her scent.
There’s no going back from this. I can no longer deny it to myself. We’ve well and truly passed the point of no return.
Chapter 17 - Sera
I wake to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains. For a moment, disorientation grips me—where am I? Then the pieces reassemble: the cottage, the storm, Dylan.
Dylan.
Memories flood back in sensory fragments. Calloused hands gripping my hips. The scrape of stubble against my inner thigh. My own voice, unrecognizable in its desperate pleading. The delicious ache of being completely, utterly claimed.
