In The High Of Passion

Sienna

His words buzzed through the room, his eyes locked on mine as if daring me to object. If only he knew how fast my heart was hammering, he would have never imagined I could resist. I slid my hands around his neck, breathing heavy, melding with his.

"Who's stopping you, Grayson?" I whispered.

For the first time, I didn't call him Grayson out of hatred, and he noticed. A smirk curved at the corner of his lips. He sat up, hands moving to his belt buckle, unbuckling it slowly, looking down at me like I was the main attraction in the most intoxicating show. Better than any strip show.

I lay beneath him, tracing my hand from his chest down to his V, relishing the warmth and texture of his skin. He was perfect. A creature of pure sin and allure.

It was strange—how men like him were so irresistible, carved to perfection. And ironic—how women like me, who held our heads high, fell for these devils beneath human skin.

As his pants and briefs slid off, I drew in a breath. I had always known Grayson was...large. He had been the talk of college—not just for his wealth, but for other things. I'd heard countless women rave about him in the magazines, about how no man compared. I'd imagined it, but Alexander—Alex—surpassed everything I had ever pictured. He was awfully, impossibly huge.

"Well..." I started, but he cut me off, tearing open a condom packet and sliding it on with a grin.

"Don't worry. It'll fit."

He leaned over me, parting my thighs, his hand resting on one side of my head as he brushed the tip against my entrance. A soft moan slipped past my lips at the contact. The veins on him stood out, giving away his restraint. He looked so dangerous hot over me, rubbing against me like that and...I was shameless to admit it so easily to myself.

Then he pushed in—inch by inch, slow, deliberate. I gripped him as he hovered over me, hands bracketing my head, our eyes locked. When he sank fully inside, reaching the hilt, I tried to steady my breathing—but the fullness, the tightness, the pounding of my heart, refused to obey.

He was inside me. There was no turning back.

"Relax, Sienna," he whispered, brushing his nose against mine. "I may be a monster, but I would never hurt you." The vein beside his forehead looked so pronounced that even the beautiful hair shading it couldn't hide it.

I let out a trembling sigh, slipping my hands around him. "Fuck me, Alex."

He growled, low and hungry. "Oh, I will—I fucking will."

The next second, he pulled out and slammed back in. I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapping around his hips. And then he started fucking me and god....He didn't just fuck me—he claimed me. Every inch, every curve, every trembling nerve.

His relentless rhythm filled the room—the slap of our skin, my moans, his deep growls. Every thrust made me feel him in ways that went beyond the physical—deep into my core, into my very soul.

It wasn't just Grayson inside me. It was him establishing ownership, claiming me with every thrust, every kiss, every possessive bite.

Every time our lips met, it was nothing but pure, unrelenting passion—a passion I had never felt before. Something I'd thought I'd never feel in this lifetime.

This wasn't supposed to be intimate. Yet every time our eyes locked while he pushed inside me, fucking me with his gaze fixed on mine, touching me, marking me with his sin—our sin—it somehow felt sacred.

"Alex..." I cried, hips trembling, the bed shaking beneath us. Sweat slicked our bodies together, his dripping onto mine. He brushed messy hair from his face, grabbed the headboard, and drove deeper than I thought I could take. He was destroying me for every other man out there—he was somehow doing it while making me love every second of it.

"Oh my God..." I buried my face in my shoulder, biting down on my lip as my orgasm neared, cruelly close.

"Oh, Flower," he chuckled, low and husky, voice raw. "God left this room long ago. It's just you and me." He leaned closer, tossing one of my legs over his shoulder. "With my cock in you." With the next thrust, I shattered completely, screaming into him.

"That was quick..." He grinned, utterly calm, utterly insane. Here I was, undone, and he was ready as if he'd just begun. Maybe he had just begun.

He didn't give me time to recover. In one swift movement, he flipped me over, lifting my ass high before driving all the way in from behind. I moaned into the pillow, clutching it as tight as I could.

"How many positions do you think I can try with you today, Amore?" His Italian accent slipped effortlessly, making me clench around him. He slapped my ass, leaving a sting that ignited fire along my skin. "Enough to make you crawl back to me every night, huh?"

I couldn't answer—I didn't even know. All I could focus on was the overwhelming, consuming feeling of him inside me.

"So fragile for someone who's so mouthy," he murmured, rubbing his fingers over the marks he'd left. Then, he grabbed my ass, squeezing, and began fucking me again, slowly at first, then relentlessly pounding in and out.

"You feel like heaven, Flower." He gripped a fistful of my hair, lifting me so my body stayed flush against his, my head falling back against his shoulder. His hand slid around my throat, possessive, possessive in a way that made my chest tighten as he looked into my eyes. "You look like a mess—a heavenly mess."

And he kissed me, softer than I had expected. His other hand rested against my belly, pulling me closer with every thrust. He held me like I was sacred whilst he fucked me like he owned me.

I was ruining the bedsheets at this point—my wetness sliding down my thighs from my previous release. And this man... he slid his hand between my legs, scooping up my wetness and bringing it to his lips, all while locking eyes with me. That was the moment I knew—hardly any man could ever outdo him. And that was not good news... at least for me.

"Ready to come for the second time, Flower?"

"Alex..." I tried to protest, to beg him not to push me further, but before I could finish, his fingers found my clit. He rubbed me with a fierce, unrelenting rhythm as he thrust from behind, matching the speed of his fingers. Locked in his arms, I screamed, shattering into a second, mindless release.

My body jerked, knees trembling as I lost my balance, but he held me tight, pressing me flush against him as I melted into his arms. My breathing was ragged, my body drenched in sweat, heart hammering so loudly I was certain he could feel it.

"A few more times to go," he whispered, hot breath brushing my skin, his fingers grazing my cheek as if I were something fragile and precious, finally within his grasp. "Catch your breath, Flower—I'm going to fuck you harder now."

I stared into his eyes, equal parts horrified and captivated.

I didn't know if I could come again—or if I could survive it. But as I looked at him, sweaty and marked with the hickeys I hadn't realized I left on him, eyes blazing with a dark, unashamed desire, I felt something stir in my chest.

It was as if I had always been an empty canvas, and finally, the colors had touched me.

Black, red, white—whatever the shade, it didn't matter. It was color nonetheless. And Alexander... he was the color on my canvas.