Romans & histoires Possessive Sex

My ragged breathing filled the air as I waited for him to talk, my chest heaving and falling rapidly, my nipples hard and aching underneath my bra. “I am quite possessive and obsessive with what I have consumed.” He said. “This means that if I fuck you right now, you’ll always be mine. No other male can penetrate this pussy.” Possessive? Obsessive? When it came to Bradley, that was exactly what I wanted. To be owned by him, and him alone. “If you agree to this now, then it’s sealed.” “Agreed.” I whispered back without thinking, leaning in to kiss him with so much urgency. “Now, fuck me already Bradley. Devour my pussy the way no other male can.”

His jaw is clenched tight, but it is not with displeasure, it is with an emotion I have never seen on his face, or maybe he’s never allowed me to see. Possession. Raw and deep and so damn dangerous. But instead of running away from it, I barge straight toward it. I bare my soul and body for it. I want it. His possessiveness. I want every last drop of it. “Fuck, Genevieve. Since when did you learn to say shit like that?” “Since you.” “Me?”

Then I go back to holding myself open for him. Mason clamps his hand around my jaw and his expression goes hard. "This p*ssy is mine and I'll fuck you as fast or slow as I want. Do you hear me?" "Yes," I whisper. "You clamp around my c*ck every time I remind your pussy who it belongs to." He keeps thrusting, keeps imprinting the feel of him into my very soul. "You like it when I get possessive." I want to deny it. This feels like a different kind of dangerous. But I can't deny the truth. So I just nod yes.

And then he smirked and looked back up at me. "You'd be bruised from my grip. Your thighs would tremble for days. And that little ache between your thighs? I'll ruin it until it's raw from how many times you cum. I don't fuck to please, Eve. I fuck to possess." Oh, God. My heart broke into a marathon. "And when I possess you, you won't belong to yourself anymore. You'll breathe for me. You'll come for me. You'll live for me. And only me."

The possessive fire there didn’t frighten her; it ignited her. "Mine," he declared, the word a vow etched in primal need. He thrust. Not a slow entry, but one powerful, claiming stroke that buried him to the hilt inside her tight, fluttering heat. Anya’s cry wasn’t of pain, but of overwhelming sensation, the incredible, burning stretch as her body yielded to his girth, the profound filling as his thick cock impaled her, claiming her depths. He was huge, stretching her exquisitely, filling her warm, wet hole completely, a perfect, demanding fit that sparked fresh fire along her nerves. He set an immediate, brutal, possessive rhythm, each powerful thrust driving her higher, grinding the base o

"Is this some kind of game to you?" Kalmin’s lips curled into a sly, arrogant grin. "You’ve yet to learn what’s mine," he said, his voice thick with possessiveness. It wasn’t the answer she was expecting, and it hit her in the chest harder than she cared to admit. “I’m not yours,” she hissed. He stepped forward. No rush. Just a deliberate closing of space. Her breath caught. He didn’t touch her—but it felt like he had. Every inch between them buzzed, taut with pressure. “You keep saying that,” he said, “but you’re still here.”

Mason created an image of himself inside the hot walls of his partner. “I will take her day and night until she produces a considerable number of pups for me. My days of daydreaming for a glorious mate are nil. Whenever she needs to be punished, I’ll make her lips sing on my cock for pleasure.” Maddox grinned, at least somewhat content that he had finally found his mate after years of searching.

A vow more binding than any ceremony. Ronan smiled against my wet skin, a low, possessive sound rattling in his throat. "Mine alone. No one else touches this. No one else fucks this. No one else owns you but me." His hands slid up to my shoulders, pinning me down as he slammed into me, his cock pistoning in and out of my dripping hole with brutal precision. The possessiveness in his voice made my heart soar even as my body burned with pleasure. "You're mine, Zane. Say it."

I growled, "-Who else could it be, Rosalie-my-dirty-girl?” I groaned, "Fuck Rosalie..." My eyes rolled back as I released, my scorching seed filling her gaping hole, this obsessive need of hers unintentionally unlocking my masculinity. "My God, love..." My chest heaved as my spend pulsed from my shaft, the sheer feeling of it setting my body alight. Elation and possessiveness coursed through me. "You're mine, Rosalie-so fucking mine-”

The dominant-submissive shift was swift and total. Hours blurred into a haze of relentless pleasure. They flipped him, rebound him face-down, and continued their assault. Mitchelle fucked him from behind with powerful thrusts while Mirabel sat on his face again. The hard, punishing rhythm pushed him to his limits. “You’re ours now,” Mirabel whispered possessively in his ear as she later took her turn riding him deep and slow, grinding every inch. “This isn’t just sex. This is ownership. Say it.” “I’m yours,” Michael gasped, voice cracking with overwhelming need.