Page 120 of The Sweetest Obsession

With a raw sound, he fuses our mouths together.

He catches my wrists, pinning them to the bed, leaving me helpless and open for him.

His hips go to work, rocking, teasing, gliding the length of his cock up and down against me until I whimper against his lips.

When he finds the perfect position, all the better to ruin me, it’s on.

The pulsing head of his cock storms the emptiness inside me.

Hot pressure.

Animalistic power.

One slow, fateful, all-consuming thrust.

Then he glides into me to the hilt, molding me around his thickness like a force of nature.

So intimate I almost want to hide, yet I can’t dream of stopping this.

Of course, he’s just as big below the belt as the rest of him.

I swear, I can feel every vein as his cock splits me open.

It’s like he’s breaking me in half, but the sharpness is glorious and wonderful and addicting.

I just want more—more!—wrapping my legs around his hips, digging my heels into the small of his back, lifting myself up into him.

I don’t even realize I’m biting his mouth until I taste the sharp metallic hint of bruises.

But he bites me right back, marking me.

His breaths rush so hot, the rough hair of his chest scraping against my breasts in shivers of pleasure.

His body moves so hard against me as every muscle tightens like a spring.

Low, guttural pleasure sounds melt between our warring lips as he sinks deeper,deeper.

I feel like he’s kissing me from the inside out, marching sensations with every inch of him that fills me.

He drives the breath from my lungs, my chest aching and hurting by the time he gives one last short, sharp, sanity-shattering thrust and buries himself in fully.

Our bodies lock.

If I thought I was sensitive before, it’s nothing compared to the wildness that ripples over my skin now.

And I clench my fingers, tossing frantically under him, still begging with my body.

“Ophelia.”

He whispers my name into my lips.

Imprinting his desire like a prayer.

And then, oh,then...

He moves.

He takes.

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