Page 57 of Sweet Doe
“You wanna feel me inside you?” I growl, dragging my cock along her soaked entrance. “Want me to fill your tight little cunt while you fall apart on it?”
She nods, breathless, eyes fluttering like she’s already there. “Please,” she whispers. “Yes.”
I don’t hesitate. I know she’s on the pill—never misses it, not once. She takes it every morning like clockwork. And fuck, that only makes it easier to give in to the madness clawing inside me.
I grip her hips harder, my voice dropping as I press in deeper. “Good. Because I’m not pulling out. You’re gonna take every drop I give you.”
I slam into her with one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
Her cry rips through the room.
I stay there for a second, her pussy gripping me so tight I can barely think. Then I start to move, slow at first—grinding in deep, making her feel every fucking inch—before snapping my hips forward, hard enough to shove the bed into the wall.
I fuck her like I’m trying to crawl inside her. Like I want to drown in her.
She clutches at my back, nails dragging down my spine as I growl into her mouth, “Say it again.”
“I’m yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Asher. Forever.”
That does it.
I hook her knees over my shoulders and slam into her deeper, her scream echoing through the cheap motel room. Her whole body is shaking. I’m not stopping until she breaks. Not until she’s sobbing from how good it feels. Her nails claw at my chest, her back arches, and her pussy clamps down as she comes again—loud, messy, gorgeous.
But I’m not done.
I flip her onto her stomach, pull her hips up, and sink back in from behind. Her whole body jerks as I bury myself to the base again, hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise.
“Do you feel that?” I rasp, grinding in. “That’s mine. You’re mine. Every part of you.”
“Yes—fuck—please—don’t stop?—”
I pound into her, fast and rough, until she’s barely holding herself up. Her moans turn into sobs, into broken little sounds that hit me right in the fucking chest. I grab a fistful of her hair, yank her head back, and whisper against her ear, “I’ll never let anyone take you from me. I’ll kill for you. Burn the fucking world if I have to.”
She shudders. “I know. I want it—I want all of it?—”
I lose control completely.
When I come, it’s with a roar, buried deep, hips jerking as I spill inside her. She falls forward, trembling, panting into the mattress while I collapse over her, chest heaving.
I softly press kisses to her shoulder, her spine, and her neck.
“I fucking love you,” I whisper against her damp skin. “You were made for me.”
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t have to. Her body melts beneath me, ruined and soft, lips parted, lashes fluttering as she comes down from the high I gave her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I scoop her into my arms, her limbs draped over me like silk, and carry her to the bathroom. The tiles are cracked, the light flickers, and the mirror’s fogged before the water even starts running, but I don’t give a fuck. Right now, it’s just her and me. My future cradled against my chest.
I set her gently on the counter, turn the shower to warm, and step in with her, pulling her into the spray. Her head rests against my chest, eyes half-closed, too fucked-out to speak, but she doesn’t let go of me. Not even for a second.
I lather the soap between my palms, then start at her shoulders. I wash her slow, reverent. My hands glide down her arms, over her ribs, and between her thighs lightly where I was brutal, gentle where I was greedy. She lets me.Trustsme. Leans into every touch like it calms whatever storm is still churning inside her.
I drop to my knees.
