Page 20 of Taming Her

His cock found her entrance. He curled his hips under and drove deep into her hot wetness.

She cried out, her eyes closing and her neck arching.

He released a throaty grunt and shoved deeper—could he ever get deep enough? The shunt forward had her head nearing the rug the dining table sat on.

Withdrawing a fraction, he plundered in again. Her pussy was tight and slick, perfect, and exactly the way he remembered.

“Griff!” she gasped.

“Come,” he said through gritted teeth. “Because this won’t be over until you do.”

She opened her eyes, her mouth hanging open as she focused on him.

“Come. For. Me.” He’d punctuated the words with thrusts, forcing the air from her lungs.

“Yes! Yes!” She canted her hips, grinding against him.

Fuck, they were good together. Always had been. No wonder he’d never settled, she’d set the bar too high. She’d wheedled her way from his real life into his fantasies without him even knowing.

“Oh… oh… don’t stop.”

“Not stopping,” he growled. His need to release was clawing at his soul. His skin was itching with it, his belly tight. But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

Her eyes were glazing, but it was with pleasure this time, not pain and humiliation.

He stared, fascinated, not even wanting to blink, as her features scrunched then she let out a long, high-pitched wail.

Her pussy clamped around his cock. Sweet contractions that hugged him and pulled him deeper.

He held his breath, relief washed through him, and he allowed his body to do what it needed to do—climax.

The orgasm gripping Ava continued, her cries not dulling. She thrashed her head from side to side on the hard floor. Her heels dug into his legs and the cuffs dragged at his neck.

He kept on going, butting up against her clit. The torturous ache in his balls finally started to abate.

And then she stilled. With her head twisted to the right, she dropped her legs, splaying them wide, and closed her eyes.

“Ava?” He brought an end to his wild thrusting. “Ava?”

She didn’t answer.

He frowned and studied her. She was still breathing, which was a good sign. Perhaps the night had finally caught up with her.

Carefully he un-looped her arms from his neck, then pulled his cock out. He sat back on his heels and studied the beautiful, exotic brat asleep on his kitchen floor with her legs akimbo, waxed pussy glistening.

“Damn it.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “I think this might be a case of being careful what you wish for, Griff.”

She was trouble. He knew that. Not least because of the effect she had on him. What had possessed him to bring her to his house—in cuffs—spank her naughty ass then fuck her like a man possessed?

He swallowed tightly. What he’d just done might have been fun in real life, but it would look bloody awful—dismissible offense awful—on paper.

But it was too late to worry about that now, and Ava really did need taking in hand. She was on a dangerous path of self-destruction and no one seemed to care; in fact her so-called friends were encouraging and enabling it. It was clear she adored them, but she was putting far too much emphasis on being the fun girl, the one with the party plans, and that was stopping her getting a direction in life. A goal. Self-respect.

She needed a focus and a sense of achievement at the end of each day. It was what everyone needed.

He tucked himself away, wiped his forearm over his sweaty brow, then scooped her into his arms.

After carrying her up the narrow staircase he took her into his bedroom. A large room with a soft cream carpet, it was dominated by a mahogany bed with a slatted headboard. It was flanked by polished tables holding tall chrome lamps and opposite the window sat an antique dressing table with ornate mirror and two huge wardrobes on squat curved legs.

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