Page 222 of Fixation

A few more squeezes, pinches, and, my God, it’s hard to stay immobile. To be his subdued patient to play with. I manage. I do it for myself.

For him, the man who tries to milk me.

“Fuck,” he groans, his breath hot on my shoulder, his cock sinking all the way in.

I’m soaking for him. Desperate. Doesn’t change the fact that the man is huge. That he stretches me as if I’ve never stopped being the virgin he kidnapped.

I gasp, and he grips my chin, turning my head for a brutal, punishing kiss.

“You’re ovulating.” In and out, he drags his length along my walls. His teeth bite my bottom lip, his dark eyes penetrate mysoul. “Do you have any idea what that does to me? How crazy you make me?”

“Why don’t you show me?”

The sentence has barely left my mouth, and Anderson slams so hard into me that I can hardly breathe.

“I’m insane. Obsessed.” He rubs my clit, and I see stars, my vision blurring around the edges. My orgasm is as intense as all of them are, and I ride it, crying out his name while he slams into me mercilessly. “Fixated. Fuck, you’re hot like that, panting and ruined for me. I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to”—slam—“take”—thrust—“it.”

I feel his low curses as he comes all the way down to my toes.

I feel his arm around me, and how he thickens inside me again.

Most of all, I feel him.

The father of my child.

My kidnapper.

My doctor.

My soulmate.

The end.