Chapter 27 #2
That breaks him. He drives into me harder, one hand slipping between us to circle my clit with practiced, ruthless precision.
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours, Will. Always.”
His pace falters for a heartbeat, then turns frenzied. I come with a cry, body clenching hard around him, and a second later he follows, grinding deep, spilling into me with a broken, desperate groan of my name.
He collapses over me, breath hot against my neck. “That was one,” he whispers. “You said a few.”
And from the way he’s already hardening again inside me, I know he’s just getting started.
Will doesn’t give me time to catch my breath.
He leans back just enough to look down at where we’re still connected and lets out a low, dangerous growl.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through the mess between my thighs. “Already leaking, and I’m not nearly done with you.”
I whimper, hips tilting toward his touch.
“You said you needed it a few times,” he goes on, voice dipping lower, darker, as he slides his fingers back into me. “So I’m gonna give it to you again. Gonna fuck you so full, baby, you’re going to leak me for days.”
My body jerks at his words, heat rolling through me in waves.
He pulls out slowly, the slide achingly deliberate. Then he flips me over onto my hands and knees. My cheek presses to the seat, breath hitching as he palms my ass, spreading me open.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, more to himself than me. “You were made for this. For me. Look at how wet you still are. Like your body knows it’s supposed to take me.”
Then he thrusts back in, hard enough to rock me forward, and I cry out, gripping the seat.
“That’s it,” he pants. “Take it. Take all of me.”
He pounds into me with unrelenting rhythm, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. His words fall hot and filthy against my back.
“Gonna fuck you stupid. Gonna fill you up again and again. When your tits are full of milk, I’m going to suck them while I pound into you.”
“Will,” I gasp, delirious from the stretch and the pace and the sheer need of it.
“You want that, don’t you?”
I moan, shameless. “Yes—God, yes.”
“Say it. Say what you want.”
“I want it all, Will. Give it to me.”
He snaps his hips harder, deeper. “Fuck, you’re gonna get it.”
When I start to tremble, on the edge again, he leans over my back, teeth scraping my shoulder. “You’re not gonna stop until you’re dripping with me. Until I own every inch of you. Inside and out.”
I fall apart with a sob, clenching tight around him, and that’s all it takes. He grunts, slamming deep one last time as he spills inside me again, every pulse of him like fire in my veins.
We collapse together, breathless and tangled and soaked in the kind of heat you don’t come back from.
His fingers trace the curve of my spine. “You think you can take a third?”
He brushes a kiss over my shoulder, like he's trying to memorize the taste of my skin. His hand rests low on my stomach, possessive, like he's already imagining what I’ll look like round with him. And maybe he is. Because when I glance back, his eyes are on me like I’m sacred.
“You got another one in you?” he asks, dragging his lips down the curve of my spine. “'Cause I’m not done proving how deep I need you.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “God, yeah.”
He eases back inside me, slower this time, but no less intense. His hand slips under me, palm splayed over my belly again like it means something now. Like it’s not just about the sex. It’s about the claim.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, rolling his hips in slow, aching thrusts. “That stretch? That fullness? That’s me, baby. That’s mine. Ours.”
I gasp, fingers curling into the seat. He wraps one arm around me and pulls me upright, my back against his chest now. Every inch of him flush against me. Every roll of his hips deeper, hotter. We’re not fucking anymore. We’re fused, like his body is trying to brand me from the inside out.
“You think I’ll stop when I come again?” he whispers in my ear, breath ragged. “You think I’ll ever stop? I’ll keep going until you’re begging me to slow down. And even then…” His hand slips down between my legs, circling slow, torturous pleasure. “Even then, I might not.”
I choke on a moan, head dropping back onto his shoulder.
“Look at you,” he says, tone soft but filthy. “All flushed and wide open for me. You were made for this. For me.”
His other hand slides up to my chest, holding me steady as his thrusts pick up again, slower now but deep, devastating. Each one designed to make me feel it. To make me remember. To ruin me for anyone else.
I shatter with a cry, my body clenching around him like it never wants to let go. He groans against my neck, hips jerking then stilling deep inside me as he spills again, every pulse of him a brand on my soul.
We stay like that. Joined, trembling, breathing each other in.
And when he finally pulls back, he cradles me like I’m breakable.
“You know I meant it, right?” he says. “I want this. You. All of it. Every messy, beautiful part of what we just did.”
I nod, heart thudding, lips parting on a whisper. “I know. And I want it too.”