Page 116 of I'm sorry, Princess
I smirk, knowing I have this power over him.
It drives him fucking insane.
“Princess, do I have to remind you,” he growls, thrusting harder this time, making my head slam back against the glass.
“who fucking owns you?”
His teeth scrape against my neck, a sharp bite, marking me, and my eyes roll back.
“No one owns me.” I barely get the words out, breathless, trembling, my legs wrapped so tightly around him I can feel his pulse through my clit.
It’s a lie. A freaking lie.
His hand cups my ass, gripping tighter, spreading me open, before he slams into me so deep, so hard that I gasp.
“I’m going to ask one more time.”Thrust. “Who fucking owns you?”Thrust.
The pleasure builds so violently I can’t hold on. My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving red lines against his perfect skin.
“You.” I surrender, my voice breaking, my body falling apart, my walls clenching around him like I need him deeper, harder.
“Who, beautiful?”
Another thrust, his lips ghosting over mine, teasing, demanding, owning.
“Lorenzo Moretti.”
The orgasm slams into me with a force so powerful I scream his name, my body shattering against him, my mind fading into nothing but him.
“Good girl.”
He keeps thrusting, his pace rough, merciless, fucking me into oblivion until his own release takes him over.
I feel him spill inside me, claiming me, filling me with warmth, possessing me in every way possible.
He doesn’t let go.
His arms stay wrapped around me, holding me tight, his lips brushing against my forehead as our breathing evens out.
And Gosh, why does he have to be so beautiful?
Even now. Even like this.
Without a word, he lifts me again, effortlessly, protectively.
He carries me into the bathroom, setting me down as he turns on the shower, steam curling around us instantly.
No bathtub this time.
This isn’t slow, or calculated. This is raw. This is him.
He steps in, bringing me with him under the warm spray, the water washing away everything but him.
I feel weak, my legs trembling, but he never lets me fall.
Slowly, he turns me, pressing my back against his solid chest, his body heat wrapping around me like a second skin.
He grabs his shampoo and starts to wash my hair, his fingers threading through the strands, massaging my scalp.
