Page 88 of Claimed By My Biker Daddies

I tighten my grip, not cruel but firm, controlling her breath as she gyrates on my cock.

Her eyes glaze with lust, her mouth falling open in a desperate moan.

I twist her nipple with my free hand, and she sobs, her pussy gripping me like a vice.

“Good girl,” I snarl, slamming my hips up to meet her bounce. “Ride me like you mean it. Show me how bad you need to be fucked.”

She’s writhing now, every part of her trembling, her body slick with sweat.

My cock drives into her with every lift and fall, her tits bouncing in my grip, her throat straining under my hand.

The sound of her cunt taking me is loud and wet, obscene, filling the room along with her cries.

“Roman—I can’t—” she sobs, her head falling back as she grinds down harder, desperate, frantic.

“Yes, you can,” I growl, pounding up into her, choking her tighter, owning every sound, every twitch. “You’ll take every inch, every thrust, until I decide you’ve had enough.”

Her whole body spasms, her pussy clamping around me like fire.

She’s shaking, writhing, her voice breaking into a scream as she bounces faster, lost in it, her tits flushed and swollen under my hands.

I choke her just a little harder, my cock slamming into her deep enough to make her eyes roll back, and she moans, long and guttural, as if she’s giving me everything she has left.

I’m right there with her, fucking up into her with steady, brutal rhythm, watching her lose herself on my cock, and I know if I let go I’ll spill inside her.

But I don’t. I hold the line.

17

MARISA

Roman’s hand is still tight around my throat, my back arched, my body a trembling mess as he pounds up into me.

Every thrust scrapes me raw inside, the stretch brutal, the wet slap of our bodies echoing in the little room.

My voice is broken, high-pitched, ragged with need, but I can’t stop saying his name.

“Roman—Roman—fuck?—”

“Say it louder,” he snarls, eyes locked on me, chest heaving. His cock pulses thick and angry inside me, swelling against my fluttering walls. “Scream it.”

And I do.

The sound tears out of me as he slams into me harder, faster, until I’m gone, until the bed rattles beneath us and my vision blurs.

My cunt clenches tight, milking him, and his roar is the only warning before he breaks.

His hips snap up in one brutal thrust and hold, his cock jerking deep.

The first gush of heat makes me sob, the second makes me bite his shoulder, and the third—gods, the third feels endless, hot and thick, flooding me until I swear I can feel it pooling inside.

He groans against my neck, shaking with the force of it, his voice low and raw.

“You take it all, angel. Every drop. You’re mine.”

I collapse against his chest, limp, panting, sweat soaking through his shirt where I bury my face.

His cock is still hard inside me, still twitching, and I whimper when he shifts his hips, grinding me down onto it as if to make sure not a drop escapes.