Page 123 of Money Reigns
Her hand leaves my back to snake between us, but I catch her wrist and pin it above her head, “No sweet girl, be a good for me, and wait.”
Her hips buck.
My other hand wraps tightly around her waist, anchoring her to every sharp, slow thrust, halting her movements.
“You hold it,” I grit out. “No matter how good it feels. No matter how much your body wants to give in.”
I watch every flicker of emotion in her eyes, desire, desperation, worship, and my voice softens. “You’re doing so good for me, baby… letting me use your body like it belongs to me. Becauseit does.Youdo.”
My pace deepens, rougher now, and I murmur into her ear, “Hold it a little longer, just for me. Let me watch you break trying to be good.”
“Please, War,” she whimpers, trembling beneath me, her walls fluttering in warning.
I growl low in my throat, the sound dark and primal. “You’re close again, aren’t you?”
She nods frantically, eyes wide and glossy. Desperate.
I slam in deep, dragging a gasp from her throat. “You think begging makes it easier? No, my sweet girl. It makes it harder. Because now I know how bad you want it.”
She sobs my name again, body arching.
But I don’t let her go there.
Instead, I grip her jaw tight and make her look at me. “You want to come?”
“Yes,” she chokes out. “Please, Warren, I’ve been good, I held it—Ineedit.”
My voice drops low, hot against her lips. “You did. You held it like a perfect fucking toy.”
I slam in again, slow but brutal. “But I’m not done watching you fall apart.”
She cries out, guttural and wrecked.
Her hips fight to move, but I keep her still, my grip on her waist tightening
“You’re doing so fucking good for me,” I rasp. “Trembling, dripping, obeying like you were made for this.”
“I’m trying,” she whimpers, voice breaking.
Her breath stutters, her whole body locked tight. Such a defiant desperate look in those gorgeous eyes.
“Good girl,” I breathe, voice thick with dark praise. “Fuckingsogood baby… taking it so well, holding back even when you’re dying to fall apart for me.”
Her fluttering walls clench around me, her body quaking with need, and I groan, low, feral, drunk on how perfectly she obeys.
“Look at you,” I rasp, my lips brushing hers, “so desperate to come, but still listening. Still giving your body to me, exactly the way I want it.”
Each thrust now is precise and brutal, angled to wreck that sweet spot, again and again, dragging you to the very edge. “You feel that? That pressure? That ache? That’s me. That’s what I do to you and you’ll never forget it.”
“Never,” she chokes out.
Perfect.
“You’ve earned it. Come for me.Now.”
I thrust deep. Once, twice, hard enough to make the bed slam against the wall.
“Come for me. Show me what I fucking own.”
