Chapter 29 You’re Mine
He licked her like a man obsessed—slow, deep strokes at first, teasing her clit with the flat of his tongue, then flicking fast and sharp until she gasped his name. Her hips bucked, but he only held her down harder, forcing her to take every second of it.
His tongue circled her clit while his fingers slid into her—two at once, curling inside her, hitting the spot that made her cry out.
“God—Lorenzo!”
He groaned into her like her moans turned him on even more. He sucked her clit hard, then softer, then hard again, keeping her right on the edge. Her thighs were shaking. Her breath was broken. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, at his shoulders, anywhere she could hold on.
She came with a violent cry, back arching, thighs squeezing his head, and he didn’t stop.
He licked her through it, tasting every drop of her, letting her ride it out as long as her body would allow. When he finally pulled back, his mouth and jaw were soaked. His lips curved in a wicked, satisfied smile.
Then he stood.
His clothes were off in seconds. His shaft—thick, hard, already leaking—sprang free and slapped against his abdomen. Krystal’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of it, her breath still coming in small, shaky gasps.
Lorenzo climbed over her. His body hovered above hers, the head of his rod rubbing through her wet folds, teasing her again.
With one hard thrust, he slammed into her, burying himself deep.
She cried out, head snapping back, body stretching around him. He was thick. So deep it felt like he was tearing her apart and filling her at the same time.
Lorenzo groaned, his forehead pressing against hers as he stilled for a second, letting her adjust.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “You feel like heaven. So fucking tight.”
Then he started moving—slow at first, deep strokes that made her legs quake. He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in, over and over, each thrust rougher, faster, hungrier.
Her body responded with every motion. Her hips lifted to meet his. Her nails dragged down his back. Her moans filled the room.
But he wasn’t done.
He sat back, grabbed her by the waist, and flipped her over like she weighed nothing. She landed on her stomach with a gasp. He pulled her hips up, arched her back perfectly, and drove back into her from behind.
Her scream was muffled into the sheets as his swollen girth plunged even deeper in this position. His hands gripped her hips tight, holding her still as he fucked her hard and fast, balls slapping against her soaked core.
He leaned over, one hand grabbing her hair, yanking her head back. His lips found her neck—biting, licking, sucking as he pounded into her from behind.
“This is mine,” he growled into her ear. “You understand? You. This body. Every cry that leaves your mouth—it’s all mine.”
“Yes,” she sobbed.
He groaned and pushed her down against the bed, mounting her fully now—his weight pressing into her back, drilling into her from behind with brutal force.
Her body began to tremble again, another orgasm building fast, feral, out of control.
He reached around her, fingers finding her clit, rubbing it viciously while his rod dragged her open from behind. She screamed his name again, louder this time, as she came violently around him—her walls clenching and pulsing, milking him.
And he couldn’t hold back.
With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep, guttural groan. Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled inside her, filling her up as his body trembled above hers.
They collapsed together—sweaty, tangled, panting.
But even then, Lorenzo didn’t let go. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, still buried inside her, holding her tight like he never wanted her to leave.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered into her neck. “You’re mine. Forever.”
Krystal was still panting beneath him, her body boneless, soaked in sweat, her thighs trembling, and her lower body leaking with both of their releases.
But Lorenzo didn’t move.
He stayed pressed against her back, thick rod still inside her, lips grazing her ear as he whispered, voice calm… but dark.
“Baby,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “You’ve been driving me out of my mind for months... and now, you need to be punished for it.”
Krystal whimpered.
He slowly pulled out of her, her soaked walls clinging to him as he slid free with a slick sound that made her moan. Then he rose from the bed and stepped away, leaving her there for a heartbeat—exposed, used, wrecked.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered sharply.
She blinked, dazed. “W–what?”
Lorenzo’s voice was firm, commanding. “Get on your knees. Hands on the headboard. Don’t make me say it twice.”
Something in his tone made her shiver.
She obeyed slowly, turning and positioning herself at the head of the bed, kneeling, arms extended, her back facing him, hands resting on the top bar of the headboard.
Her chest lifted, breasts swaying with every breath, and her thighs parted just enough to expose her again—exactly the way he wanted.
He returned with something in his hand.
A silk necktie—dark, smooth, and dangerous in his fingers.
“I told you you’re mine,” he said, walking behind her. “Now I’m going to make sure you remember it.”
Krystal’s breath caught as he gently took her wrists and tied them together with the silk, securing her hands to the headboard’s top rail. The fabric wasn’t tight enough to hurt—but enough to make her powerless. Vulnerable.
Then she felt the heat of his body press against her back, his breath warm against her shoulder.
His hand slid slowly down her stomach—and in one swift, fluid motion, he pulled her up. Her upper body dropped onto the bed as her hips lifted into the air.
A sharp smack rang out as his hand came down hard on her ass, the sound echoing through the room.
She gasped. Shock, pain, arousal mixing into a dizzying rush.
Before she could recover, another slap landed on the other cheek. Not cruel—but hard enough to make her bite her lip and moan.
Lorenzo growled, massaging her skin after each strike, his hands rough and hungry.
She was too breathless to speak.
His hand wrapped around her throat from behind.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“I’m yours,” she whispered, voice trembling.
“Good girl,” he growled, biting down on her shoulder.
Then she felt the head of his shaft press against her soaked folds again—already hard, already ready for another round.
But this time, he didn’t thrust in.
He teased her, rubbing his cockhead through her slit, letting it drag over her swollen clit, smearing her own juices back over her skin. She whimpered, grinding her hips back, trying to make him enter her.
“No,” he said firmly. “You take what I give you. Nothing more.”
He slapped her ass again—harder this time—then grabbed her hips and drove into her in one deep, brutal stroke.
Krystal cried out, arms straining against the silk restraint, head thrown back as he started to pound into her mercilessly from behind.
His rhythm was punishing now. Rough. Controlled chaos.
Every thrust hit deep, every motion laced with dominance, with obsession. His hand slid around to grab her breast, squeezing hard, thumb flicking her nipple as her cries filled the room.
“You’re mine to fuck. Mine to break. Mine to please,” he growled, pulling her back onto his shaft again and again. “No one touches you. No one sees this body except me. Say it.”
“I’m yours!” she sobbed. “No one else. Just you—Lorenzo, please…”
He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back again, biting down on her neck, growling like a beast in heat.
His rod was slamming into her with such force the headboard was shaking. The restraint tightened with every thrust as she struggled to stay still. Her body was overwhelmed, desperate, overstimulated.
And then his fingers were between her legs again—rubbing her clit, fast and ruthless.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice harsh. “I want to feel you break.”
She screamed as her orgasm ripped through her. Explosive, and unbearable. Her legs shook, body spasming around him.
And that sent him over the edge.
With one final, violent thrust, Lorenzo came deep inside her, growling her name like a man possessed, like he was emptying every dark part of his soul into her.
He didn’t pull out.
He stayed inside her, chest pressed to her back, arms wrapped tight around her trembling form as they both collapsed against the bed.
Her wrists were still bound, her body soaked, marked, claimed in every possible way.
And still, his voice whispered at her ear, rough and ragged, possessive as hell:
“You’re never getting away from me.”