Page 22 of Finding Denver

“Be rough,” she says, and my hand snakes around her neck. A small gasp escapes her lips as I pull her back against me.

“Who’s in control, Denver?”

“You,” she breathes.

“Then why are you telling me how to fuck you?”

She swallows, her throat shaking against my palm. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you are,” I whisper against her, my other hand drifting down. I pinch her clit, and she cries out. “Are you sorry?”

“Y-yes,”

“What for?”

“For telling you how to fuck me.” I pinch her again and her head lolls back, and she grinds against my hand. “Please, Ranger?—”

“Give me another instruction, Denver, and I’ll tear you in fucking half,” I growl against her ear, squeezing her throat until her lips part.

Her eyes are hazy with want when they meet mine, and she swallows deep before saying, “Fuck me, Ranger. Fuck me like you hate me.”

My anger is controlled, but I still squeeze her throat like I’m losing it. “You’ll regret those words.”

My hand leaves her throat to grip the back of her head, pressing her cheek into the shower wall. In one swift, abrupt movement, I shove myself inside her slick heat, her pussy already weeping to be taken, the access smooth and tight and fuckingmine.

And I do fuck her like I hate her. Because maybe part of me does. Maybe the part of me willing to sabotage her success, the part that’s tempted to lock her away and have her only for myself, is the part that despises Denver Luxe. She’s becoming everything I dreamed of, and I want to smash that version of her to pieces and keep parts of her for myself, so she’ll never be whole again.

So I fuck her like I hate her, and the words I haven’t said fuel every thrust.

I need you to need me.

I’m jealous. I’m jealous. I’m fucking jealous.

I grip her hair and pull it taut, and she gasps, her back arching as I slam into her. The sound of flesh meeting flesh overpowers the shower, and I slap her ass as she claws against the tiles.

Her orgasm is a whipcrack, quick and loud. She spills over my cock, her screams echoing through the room, my name a constant on her lips. Tears stream down her face, and I don’t stop, her whimpers a drive for me to continue, and as I slip a finger inside the tight bundle of her ass, she sobs.

“More.”

This used to break her in the most wonderful way. This was her undoing, being filled, devoured, used, but now she needs more—so I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her everything until it destroys her, and only I can fix her.

I turn her and lift her into my arms, leaving the shower running as I carry her back into the bedroom. I throw her on the bed, our bodies will wet, and she gazes up at me, her cheeks heated, lips parted.

“You want more?” I open the nightstand, and she nods desperately as I coat my cock in lube. “Get your toy.”

She scrambles for her own nightstand, pulling open the drawer and taking out the dildo, one I’ve forced down her throat as I’ve fucked her before.

“Open your legs,” I say, and she obeys. I kneel between her thighs. My lube-covered finger slides across her asshole and I ease it inside. Her head drops back, and her moan is low. “Fuck yourself.”

She looks up at me as she slides the toy inside herpussy, the length and thickness similar to my cock, and with every inch, she arches her back. Her nipples are hard, dusky pink against pale skin, and I lean forward, circling one with my tongue and then the other as the toy fills her. She slowly starts to fuck herself, the sound of the soft material and her wetness filling the room, and I ease another finger into her ass.

“Is this what you do while I’m gone?” I nibble her breast, then run my tongue along the redness I leave behind. “Fuck yourself with a toy?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Do you think about me?”

“Always,” she moans. “Always.”