Chapter 13 Amelia #2
“Please,” I whine, unable to control the desperate sound that tears from my throat. My hips buck upward, chasing contact that he cruelly withdraws each time I get close.
“Such a needy little thing,” he murmurs, his voice a dark velvet that wraps around me. His fingers dig into my thighs, spreading me wider on the desk.
Just when I think I might shatter from pure frustration, he pulls back. His eyes lock with mine as he positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me.
“Mine,” he growls.
In one savage thrust, he slams inside me to the hilt. The sudden fullness—the exquisite stretch—triggers my release instantly. My vision whites out as pleasure crashes through me in violent waves, my body clenching around his invasion.
Gabe groans deep in his chest, his fingers bruising my hips as he holds himself inside me. “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight and wet,” he swears, his composure completely shattered. “Your cunt is squeezing my cock like it’s trying to break it in half.”
I can’t speak, can’t think, can only feel as my orgasm pulses around him, my bound hands clenching uselessly above my head. The intensity of coming with him buried deep inside me is unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
“That’s it,” he hisses, remaining perfectly still. “Give it all to me.”
My orgasm subsides, body still twitching with aftershocks, but Gabe gives me no time to recover.
He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, the brutal thrust forcing a cry from my lips. My bound wrists strain against his silk tie as he establishes a merciless rhythm, each powerful stroke hitting the spot deep inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Look at me,” he demands, one hand wrapping around my throat. His fingers tighten just enough to restrict my breathing without cutting it off completely. The pressure sends a fresh wave of wetness between us.
I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze. What I see there should terrify me—something ancient and predatory lurks behind those gray eyes, something that wants to devour me whole.
“That’s it,” he growls, increasing his pace. “I want to see your eyes while I ruin this pretty cunt.”
His thumb presses against my windpipe as his other hand finds my nipple, pinching it roughly. The sharp pain blends with pleasure until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“You take it so well,” he snarls, bending to bite the soft flesh of my breast. His teeth break capillaries, leaving marks I know will bloom purple by morning. “Made to be fucked like this—hard and filthy on my desk.”
My second orgasm builds faster than the first, urged on by his relentless pace and the exquisite pain-pleasure of his teeth against my skin, his hand at my throat, his fingers twisting my nipples until tears spring to my eyes.
“Please,” I gasp, though I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop or never stop.
Gabe’s rhythm falters for a second before becoming even more punishing. He releases my throat, grabbing my bound wrists instead and using them as leverage to drive deeper.
“You want to come again?” His voice is barely human now, a primal growl that vibrates through my bones. “Beg for it. Tell me this pussy belongs to me now.”
“It’s yours,” I gasp, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. “My body belongs to you—please, Gabe, make me come again.”
His eyes flash with triumph as his hand slides back to my throat, fingers pressing into the sides where my pulse hammers wildly.
The pressure builds gradually, not cutting off my air completely but restricting the blood flow enough that my head starts to swim.
Colors brighten around the edges of my vision.
“Good girl,” he growls, his hips snapping forward with brutal strokes. “Now take what’s yours.”
The orgasm hits me like a freight train, my entire body arching off the desk as waves of pleasure tear through me. I can’t breathe, can’t think—there’s nothing but Gabe’s cock hitting that perfect spot inside me and his fingers controlling the blood flow to my brain.
Through the haze, I feel him swell even larger inside me, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck, I’m coming,” he snarls, driving deep one final time. The hot pulse of his release triggers something primal in me—my orgasm intensifies impossibly as he floods me with his cum, marking me from the inside.
The choking extends everything, stretching seconds into eternity. I’m floating and drowning simultaneously, lost in sensation so intense that tears stream down my face. My consciousness narrows to a pinpoint of pure sensation.
Just before blackness threatens, Gabe releases my throat. Oxygen rushes back, turning my fading orgasm into another explosive peak. I tighten around him, my body milking every last drop as unintelligible sounds escape my lips.
He collapses onto me, his weight pinning me to the desk. Our sweat-slick bodies slide against each other as we both struggle to breathe. After a moment, he unties my wrists, gently rubbing circulation back into them before cradling my face in his hands.
His kiss is tender, almost reverent, compared to the violence of moments before. Our tongues tangle lazily as aftershocks continue to flow through me.
As reality slowly returns, I blink up at the ceiling. What the hell just happened? I don’t do this—any of this. I don’t fuck near-strangers on their desks. I don’t let men come inside me without protection. I’ve never even enjoyed being choked before.
Yet here I am, pinned beneath Gabe Dawson, his cum leaking out of me, my body covered in bite marks and bruises I’ll feel for days. And God help me, I’ve never felt more alive.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says, and it’s not really a question.
I nod, too exhausted and satiated to form words. Every muscle in my body feels like liquid, my thoughts hazy in the aftermath of what happened between us.
Gabe slides one arm beneath my knees and another around my shoulders, lifting me from the desk as if I weigh nothing. I should feel vulnerable—naked in his arms, marked by his teeth, his release still warm between my thighs—but instead, I feel strangely safe.
He carries me through a door hidden behind a bookshelf I hadn’t noticed before. A narrow staircase leads upward, dimly lit by sconces emitting soft amber light. My head lolls against his shoulder as he climbs, his breathing steady despite carrying me.
“Few people know about this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “Private entrance to my apartment.”
The stairs open into a spacious loft that surprises me with its warmth.
I’d expected something sleek and modern like his office, but this space feels lived in.
Exposed brick walls lined with bookshelves, vintage rugs layered over hardwood floors, a massive bed with rumpled dark sheets visible through an archway.
Gabe carries me straight to a bathroom with a claw-foot tub large enough for two. He sets me gently on my feet, steadying me when my legs wobble.
“Let me take care of you,” he says, turning on the taps. Steam rises as he adds something that smells like cedar to the water.
I watch him, this man who fucked me with such brutal intensity, carefully testing the water temperature with his wrist. The contradiction fascinates me—the violence in him existing alongside this tenderness.
When he turns back to me, his eyes catalog every mark he’s left on my skin with possessive satisfaction. His finger traces a bite mark on my breast that’s already darkening to purple.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and I should feel objectified, but instead feel strangely seen.