Page 75 of Cyber Revenge

His fingers will tease me, dragging me to the edge until I’m begging, panting into the pillow, pleading for him to take me.

And he always does, too. Hard. Deep.

Until I’m coming so hard I can’t breathe, my body convulsing around him as he claims me all over again.

But it isn’t just the mornings. It’s constant.

I can’t sit on the couch without him pulling me into his lap, spreading my legs, and shoving his fingers inside me until I’m a dripping mess.

I can’t walk past him without his hand wrapping around my throat, pulling me back against his chest while he whispers filthy promises in my ear that leave me soaked and desperate.

And I love it.

I love being his. I love the way hetakesme, without hesitation, without mercy. He doesn’t just fuck me. Heruinsme.

The nights… the nights are a different kind of madness. Trip doesn’t need words to tell me how much he owns me. He shows me with every brutal, punishing thrust.

He pushes me beyond my limits, bending me until I’m broken and raw, but I fuckingloveit. I crave the pain. The sting of his knife tracing over my skin before he slides it inside me.

The feel of his teeth sinking into my flesh, marking me as his over and over again. The blood that drips down my thighs when he cuts me just enough to make me whimper, but never enough to scare me.

It isn’t fear. It’s need. And Trip knows exactly how far to take me. He pushes me right to the edge, makes mebegfor it, and then drags me back just before I shatter completely.

I’m addicted. Completely and utterly addicted. And I know he is, too.

It’s in the way he looks at me–like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can satisfy him.

His eyes burn with possession, with something darker that he never tries to hide. He doesn’t just want me.

Heneedsme. Just as much as I need him. And that knowledge…

It’s intoxicating.

I lose count of how many times he’s fucked me in the past month.

On the bed. Against the wall. On the floor. In the shower. On the kitchen counter.

I’m a mess. My body is constantly sore, constantly marked, constantly dripping with his cum. And Iloveit.

I love knowing that every part of me belongs to him. That no matter how many times he takes me, I’ll always be ready for more.

Tonight is no different.

I’m already wet before he even touches me. Just the way he looks at me has my thighs clenching, my body anticipating what's coming.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my legs spread just enough to give him a glimpse of what’s waiting for him.

My nipples are already hard, peeking through the thin fabric of the tank top I’m wearing–his fucking tank top.

His eyes are locked on me, dark and dangerous, filled with that same unrelenting hunger that never goes away.

“Take it off, killstreak.” His voice is low, rough, filled with a need that matches my own.

I don’t hesitate.

I pull the shirt over my head, tossing it to the side, leaving me bare in front of him. His gaze roams over me, taking in everyinch of my body–every mark, every bruise, every scar he’s left behind.

His.