Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Ryan doesn't stop. Doesn't give me time to adjust or breathe or process what's happening. He pulls back slightly—just enough that I feel the drag of his cock against my sensitive inner walls—then slams back in deeper, forcing another few inches inside me with a grunt of satisfaction that sounds almost feral.
"Fuck," he breathes, voice gone ragged. "You're so fucking tight."
I can't respond. Can't form words around the sensation consuming me.
My hands fly up instinctively, grabbing at the edges of the table, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the padded surface as he fucks into me again. And again. Each thrust brutal and claiming and exactly what my body has been screaming for.
The pain starts to shift. Morphing into something deeper, more complex—still there but now threaded through with pleasure so intense it makes my vision blur at the edges.
This. This is what I've been missing.
Not gentle lovemaking. Not careful exploration with someone who treats me like I might break. But this—raw, and desperate, and so physically overwhelming that there's no room left in my brain for the constant spiral of self-judgment and shame.
There's only sensation.
His cock stretching me impossibly wide. The obscene wet sounds of him fucking into my drenched pussy. The way my legs tremble uselessly in the stirrups as he uses me exactly how he wants.
I force my eyes open—didn't even realize I'd squeezed them shut—and look down the length of my body.
The sight nearly breaks me.
My sports bra still covering my breasts. My legs spread wide and locked in place. Ryan between my thighs. And his cock—thick and glistening with my arousal—disappearing into my body with each brutal thrust.
You're getting exactly what you wrote about. Every shameful fantasy. Every dark craving you were too afraid to admit.
The thought sends another vicious pulse through my core, my pussy clenching reflexively around his thickness in a way that makes him groan.
"That's it," he growls, fingers digging harder into my hip. "Squeeze my cock. Show me how much you fucking need this."
I do need this.
I need to be split open, and claimed, and fucked so hard I can't think about anything except the overwhelming physical reality of being used.
Ryan shifts his angle slightly—pulling back farther this time before slamming in with enough force to make the entire table shudder beneath me—and something inside me gives way.
Not breaking. Not tearing.
Just... surrendering.
My body stops fighting the invasion and starts accepting it, accommodating the brutal stretch, welcoming the pain-laced pleasure that's building with each thrust.
And suddenly he's deeper. Impossibly deeper. Buried inside me so completely I can feel him everywhere—pressing against places that make stars explode behind my eyelids, filling me so thoroughly there's no space left for anything except this.
"Fuck yes," he breathes, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. "There you go. Take it all."
I'm moaning—desperate, broken sounds I don't recognize—as he establishes a rhythm. Pulling out until just the thick head remains inside me, then slamming back in with punishing force that makes my entire body jolt against the restraints.
The stirrups keep my legs spread wide no matter how much I tremble. The table holds me perfectly positioned for his use. And I'm helpless to do anything except take what he's giving me.
"Shit," he groans. "Fuck, Scarletta. I'm gonna come, you little fiend. Ten goddamn minutes and I'm at your fucking mercy."
He reaches forward with one hand, fingers spreading wide as they cup the back of my neck. The grip is possessive, demanding, as he hauls me upward off the table—forcing my spine to arch as my entire upper body lifts toward him.
"See?" he demands through gritted teeth. "See what you do to me?"
I do see.
God help me, I see everything.
"If I come," he says, his breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts that match the rhythm of his thrusts, "you come too." His hand releases my neck, fingers sliding up into my hair instead. He winds his fist into the strands—not gently, not carefully—just twisting until my scalp burns and I gasp. "Do you hear me?"
He yanks me closer, my face tilting up to meet his as he leans down. Then his mouth crashes against mine—brutal, consuming—all teeth, and tongue, and desperate hunger. He bites my lower lip hard enough to sting.
"Do you fucking hear me, little fiend?"
"Yes," I gasp against his mouth. "Yes, I—"
But the word barely escapes before his hand slides between us—rough, demanding—and his thumb finds my clit.
The pressure is immediate. Perfect. Devastating.
He circles once. Twice.
And I detonate.
My orgasm hits like a physical blow—ripping through me with such brutal intensity that my entire body locks up around his cock. Every muscle seizing. My pussy clenching so hard around his thickness that he groans into my open mouth.
"Fuck—" Ryan's voice breaks. "Fuck, Scarletta—"
His rhythm shatters. Three more brutal thrusts—desperate and erratic—then he yanks himself out with a guttural sound that's half curse, half prayer as I slam back against the table.