Page 61 of Blackwood

“That’s what I thought.”

He lifts me without warning. His strong hands gripping under my thighs, slamming my back into the wall. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct, just as his mouth finds my neck and bites. Hard. Our tongues clash like a damn war, biting and sucking.

He sets me down just enough to shove my jeans down and to take off his own. His fingers slip beneath the lace of my underwear, dragging through wet heat.

“Soaked,” he growls. “You always like this after a mission? Or is this wetness just for me, Iz?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Not when he pushes two fingers deep inside me, curling them just right to hit that perfect spot. My head thumps back against the wall.

He pumps them slow. Painfully slow, like he wants to feel every reaction, every tremble. He looks down to watch his work as his thumb circles my throbbing clit once, twice. Three times.

“Ah… Laing.” He picks up his pace and I gasp as my pussy clenches around his fingers. “I’m so close.”

“Shh.” He kisses me again, brutal and deep, yanking his fingers free right as I’m about to explode.

“Asshole,” I bite out.

“Turn around,” he says, licking my arousal off his fingers one by one.

I hesitate.

“I said. Turn the fuck around, Iz.”

He flips me fast, smashing my chest against the wall. One hand rips my panties off with enough force I’m sure will leave a mark tomorrow. The other finds the back of my neck, pressing me forward.

I feel him. His thick, pierced, tatted monster of a cock already dripping and pressing against the curve of my ass.

“You want me?” he asks.

I nod.

“Then you’re going to have to work for it, Iz. You’re going to count every one of them for me tonight.”

“Count them?”

“Each fucking piercing, Iz.”

I swallow, trying to calm myself down.

He pulls me back into him and starts to push himself inside. The burn as the first piercing scrapes against my walls makes me gasp.

“What did I say?”

“One,” I moan.

“Good girl.”

He keeps going, pushing in at a slow and punishing speed that forces me to feel the stretch, the sting. Forces me to feel him fucking ruin me.

“Two.”

“Keep going.”

“Ah! Laing,” I cry. “Three.”

“Almost there, Iz.”

“Four.”