7. Katarina #2
His mouth finds my nipple, sucking roughly as his fingers rip my yoga pants open, tugging them down my legs along with my panties.
I'm naked, vulnerable, pinned to the door by his relentless assault. My struggles weaken as desire threatens to consume me. “Erik, I can't?—”
His fingers brush my swollen core, tearing a cry from my throat. The rest of my protests die on my lips as my body betrays me with its aching need.
“You can,” he breathes, his voice ragged. “You want me, don't you?”
Shame wars with the need spiraling through me. This is wrong. It's too much. But my body throbs with each brush of his fingers, urging me to give in.
I'm caught, helpless, pinned between the door and his hard length. His fingers thrust inside me, thick and demanding.
“You're so wet for me.” His growl sends electricity down my spine. “Can't lie about this. Your body's weeping for it.”
His mouth finds mine, swallowing my moan. I'm overwhelmed by the pleasure shooting through me, my body climbing toward the edge despite my desperate attempts to resist.
Erik's thumb finds my clit, rubbing rough circles. My back bows, my hips pressing into his hand as I moan his name. Sensations spiral out of control, carrying me closer to the precipice.
“That's it,” he growls, his own breath coming in harsh pants. “Come for me.”
I struggle for purchase, my feet scrabbling against the floor, but there's no escape. No way to stop the tide of pleasure sweeping through me.
Erik's mouth covers mine, stealing my cries as my body shatters, convulsing around his fingers with mind-erasing force. Darkness edges my vision even as the pleasure continues to pulse through me.
Too much. I whimper against his mouth, my thighs trembling.
But he doesn't stop. He tugs at my hips, turning me. My hands fly to the door, seeking support as my legs give out. Rough fingers bite into my hips, dragging me back against his pelvis.
“I can't stop,” he growls against my neck. “Not now.”
The head of his shaft pushes against me, thick and insistent. I moan, half in pleasure, half in fear, as he holds my wrists with one hand, keeping them behind my back. His teeth graze my shoulder as he drives into me.
My breath stutters in my lungs. Rough wood bites into my palms as I push against the door, seeking leverage.
Erik's thrusts are hard and fast, fueled by the same desperation that grips me now. His hand tightens around my wrists with each snap of his hips, holding me captive.
Our harsh breaths fill the small space, mingling with the wet sounds of our joining. I should be fighting this, but my body craves it, arching to meet each thrust.
The world narrows to this moment—the press of his skin against mine, the overwhelming need fueling his every push. I'm out of control, spinning toward another cliff edge.
His hand moves between us, his thumb circling my clit with relentless force. Sensations spiral, dragging a raw moan from my throat.
Terror crashes over me as the reality of my situation sinks in. This is no longer a game, no longer something I can control. I struggle with renewed force, desperate to get away, but he holds me fast, his grip bruising.
“You're mine now.” His breath is hot against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “You want it, don't you, slut? Want me to use that sweet body of yours.”
My cheeks flame at the degradation, even as heat coils tighter in my core. His thumb continues its relentless assault on my bundle of nerves, dragging me closer to the edge.
“Beg me for it.” His free hand smacks my backside, making me cry out. “Come on, beautiful, beg for my cock.”
I'm beyond fighting now and beyond shame. Pleasure coils like a snake around my spine, sharpening my every sense. I want this. Need it.
“Please,” I choke out, the word ripped from my throat. “I need—more.”
“That's it.” His voice is rough with his own need, sending another spark through me. “You want my cock, don't you? Deep inside you.”
“Yes,” I whimper, every rational thought evaporating. “Please, just?—”
He thrusts harder, his grip bruising. “Say it. Tell me how much of a whore you are.”
The words are filthy, but they fan the flames of my desire. I'm burning, consumed by a need so intense it erases everything else.
“I'm a whore,” I gasp. “I'm your slut, Erik, please?—”
“My perfect little whore.” His voice drops an octave, sending a shockwave through me. “So fucking tight around my cock.”
My body clenches around him, every nerve alight. Pleasure builds, a tsunami ready to break. His fingers dig into my hips, his thrusts becoming erratic as he loses control.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the small space. My breath comes in harsh gasps, the door the only thing keeping me upright.
His teeth find my shoulder, his thrusts driving me higher. Lightning crackles across my nerves, tightening every muscle. With a hoarse cry, I shatter around him, my inner walls pulsing.
Erik follows, his body tensing as he fills me. His harsh exhale is hot against my neck.
Gradually, the world revolves back into focus. My legs are boneless, and my body is sated for the first time in months.
Erik's weight rests against my back, his breath evening out. His arms wrap around my waist, drawing me against his chest as he peppers kisses along my shoulder.
And in that moment, with his body still joined with mine, something shifts between us. A crack in the wall he's built around himself.
My legs tremble as Erik withdraws, leaving me empty and cold. The loss of his touch hits like a physical blow. One moment, his heat surrounds me, and the next, there's nothing. Suddenly he’s putting his fixing his clothes and striding to the position by the door.
His face is a mask of stone again, that carefully constructed wall back in place. As if the last twenty minutes never happened. As if he hadn't just taken me against the bathroom door with savage intensity.
My body aches in places I didn't know could ache. Bruises bloom on my wrists and my hips, marking where his fingers dug into my flesh. The wetness of our combined releases is impossible to deny between my thighs. Yet, Erik stands there like a statue, his eyes fixed on some distant point.
I stumble to the bed on shaky legs, pulling the covers around me. The sheets feel rough against my sensitized skin. Every movement reminds me of what we just did—what I let him do to me. What I begged him to do.
Heat crawls up my cheeks as I remember the filthy words that spilled from my lips. The way I arched into his touch, desperate for more.
I close my eyes, willing sleep to come. But my mind races, replaying every moment. The way his hands felt on my skin. The growl in his voice when he?—
No. I can't think about this. Can't let myself remember how good it felt to surrender to him. He's the enemy. This was a mistake.
But sleep eludes me. My body still thrums with aftershocks, and Erik's presence by the door is a tangible weight in the room. I can feel his eyes on me now, though I refuse to look.
What have I done?