Master of Her Sins
The emerald sweater she wore was pulled up, her skin hot and slick against my palms.
“Tell me,” I muttered against her mouth, my voice completely unhinged as I drove my cock into her, the deep, heavy fullness of the connection making her head fall back against the pillows. “Tell me who you belong to, Bela.”
She let out a sharp, aching cry, her fingers tangling deep into my dark hair, pulling me down until our foreheads pressed together. Her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, locking me inside her as her body met every deep, punishing thrust with a fierce, desperate rhythm of her own.