Mr. Sy, Hold Me Tight Novels & Stories

He whispers and grasps my ass as he slowly begins to push his dick into me making me shudder with supreme cravings in his arms. The bell for the end of the lunch break suddenly rings out from nowhere but before Mr Mitchell can change his mind to relent from whatever is about to do, I wrap my legs all the more tightly around his waist pulling him towards me with so much force that he is forced to insert the rest of his dick into my p**** and I groan arching my back against the wall hugging him tight as he curses under his voice.

“Say my name when I fuck you.” “Dorian.” He snapped his hips forward, burying himself fully inside me. The rhythm he set was brutal, deep, every thrust a claiming. His hand gripped my throat, pulling me back against him as he pounded into me, eyes locked on mine. “You were made for me,” he snarled against my ear. “Every inch of you.” I was shaking, overwhelmed, consumed. The bond between us pulsed with each thrust, magic curling around us like fire, like fate.

You still think that all you have to do is call my name gently, and you'll come running back to his arms like a tamed kitten. But this time, my plans are already set. I am leaving New York.

He was dressed in a black suit and his gray tie tugged firmly around his neck. All the years Sharon spent married to Derek, she had known he had many tricks up his sleeves. This time, she was curious on what new trick he would display. But, seeing this elderly, cooperate dressed man holding a suitcase, she said to herself "So, he's eventually going to give in." She smiled, praising her hard work. “Mr. Maxwell, you made it. Good to see you.” Mr. Benson stood up and shook his hand. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He apologized.

This was between the devil and the deep blue sea. “Do you agree to this or do I call my dad and tell him that you have brought more tears to my eyes?” Sara asked coyly.

Mу fingers grаbbеd hіѕ hаіr іn рrераrаtіоn for whаt was аhеаd. “Mе tоо, gоd baby, you’re ѕо tіght.” Thе strained look on hіѕ face wаѕ ѕо іntеnѕе, he wаѕ hоldіng оn trуіng dеѕреrаtеlу tо gіvе mе thе release I ѕо bаdlу nееd. I was рrоbаblу сlеnсhіng hіѕ рооr cock tо dеаth.

It’s actually a blessing for him that they’re not on a window seat, because if they were, oh god, Klyde cannot imagine what’s going to happen. His eyes are shut tight, his head hanging low and his teeth clenching so hard he’s afraid he might actually hurt himself but it’s the only thing that can get him through the flight. Suddenly, he felt the familiar warmth again. On his hand this time. In his current state, he did not even have the time to get startled at the touch and just automatically opened his hand so he could lace their fingers together. He held on the alpha’s hand tight.

“I know what you’re hinting at, but I am not going to cuff you just yet. I want you to fight the urge to wiggle. Once you feel helpless beyond control, only then will I cuff you and really go wild with this lovely body.” Sandra blushed, feeling the nerves of excitement burning through her veins. “Ready?” he asked and smiled when she nodded. He stood up and removed his pants and underwear before taking the familiar brown plastic bottle that read Hershey's sirop. He flipped the lid open and slowly began to dribble the cold, thick syrup across her nipples, smiling as she gasped. “Remember, you have to hold perfectly still. This is a lesson in control. While I am enjoying myself, you have to for

My heart sank like a stone, hard into my gut. I took a half step, trying to put myself between that mighty silver sword and Sy, protected by nothing but his dignity and a ripped t-shirt. But Sy tugged at my hand, holding me back. His voice was firm and clear as he continued.

"I won't hurt you. I'll protect you. You'll see. I just need you to trust me." “Hurt me? What the fuck—you’re in my house, you idiot!” she snapped. “You’re the one who cleans the place, stocks the fridge, and makes me food? Are you stupid?!” God, she’s so damn cute when she’s mad. Even when she’s chasing me like she wants to kill me. My stomach turned with fear, but there was something about the way he said it that made his words feel like a twisted promise. My instincts screamed to get away, but my body refused to move. Then, he pulled something from his jacket, a syringe. My heart slammed in my chest, panic rising with every passing second. I struggled, trying to break free, but he was too