Page 60 of His To Erase

My breath stutters and I buck my hips. No fucking way am I about that. But I can’t help the hunger that crashes through me at hearing him say it though. It’s all I can do not to scream. I’ve never done that. Never even considered it. I for sure don’t want to start now.

I bite down hard, trying to swallow the moan rising in my throat. The moment his fingers slide lower, brushing over that tight, forbidden part of me, my whole body jolts.

“Scared?” he taunts, keeping his voice low.

My pulse slams behind my ribs. Yes, actually. I’m terrified. I don’t even know what I’d do if he—my thoughts cut off as his fingers return, slowly teasing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, mouth brushing the shell of my ear. “I’m not gonna take it tonight.”

Relief hits me hard… until his next words shatter it. “But I am going to play with it. Just enough to make your pussy clench for me.”

I whimper as his slick fingers slide lower again, one hand still wrapped tight around my wrists, the other spreading me open like he’s mapping out all the places I’ve hidden.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, as his fingers tease the place that makes my entire body go still. “You’re safe. Even when I’m fucking ruining you.”

Fuck.

That’s what undoes me. Not the filth. Not the way my body’s trembling. I’m soaked and stretched to the edge of breaking, but it’s the truth in his voice. That brutal, terrifying certainty that he’ll tear me apart—and still be the one who puts me back together after.

My throat tightens, but I exhale, loosening my jaw, the fight bleeding from my legs inch by inch.

“I trust you,” I whisper. It’s not a declaration. It’s a surrender. I feel it when he hears me—I feel the shift in the way his body stills behind me.

His fingers drag through my wet pussy again—only deeper this time, slow and claiming.

“You want me to be gentle?” His cock presses against my entrance, thick and throbbing.

I shake my head.

“Then stop pretending you’re not mine.”

He presses deeper and his thumb still teases that forbidden edge, making my whole body shake.

“…you want out, you say the word. Otherwise? I’m not holding back.”

A strangled sound claws out of my throat, but I still don’t tell him to stop. Because I can’t. My body’s already gone rogue—arching like it doesn’t care that I’ve never done this before.

“Steven—” His name slips out like a prayer and a warning.

Panic and arousal fuse, twisting into something feral. There’s no denying how soaked I am for him. I’m so fucking close to begging for something I swore I’d never let anyone take.

“See that?” he growls. “That panic? That need? That’s where I live, dear. Right in the space where you don’t know if you want to run or beg.”

He thrusts in slowly, like he’s punishing me with his restraint, while his thumb presses down just enough to make every muscle in my body forget how to function.

“And tonight… you’re staying.”

He doesn’t give me the satisfaction of being split wide the way I crave. Instead, he pauses there—just the thick head of his cock stretching me while his thumb keeps circling, tormenting me until I feel completely unhinged.

“Steven—” My voice breaks into part sob, part plea.

“Your cunt’s trying to choke on my cock before I’ve even given it to you.”

I let out a strangled sound, while my chest heaves against the counter. He still has my wrists pinned behind me in his grip. I don’t know whether to scream, sob, or laugh—because everything feels too good. It’s all too much. My brain can’t keep up, and my body doesn’t give a shit.

“You don’t get to decide when I fuck you,” he rasps. “You don’t get to come just because you’re desperate.”

His hips pull back and I groan in protest. Instead of slamming into me—he drags the head through my slit again, soaking himself in my arousal, only to line up again and stop.

My thighs tremble as my pussy clenches around nothing.

“You crawl for me,” he murmurs. “You beg. You fucking surrender.” Then he pushes in—just the thick head—stretching me open, just enough to make my eyes slam shut and my breath catch.

His thumb presses deeper between my cheeks and I jolt, a broken moan tearing from my throat.

“That’s it,” he breathes, lips close to my ear. “Squirm. Fight it. I want to feel you come apart before I let you have it. I want you to know what it costs to be mine.”

My breath comes in short, ragged bursts. I’m pinned and panting, dripping for him, shaking from how badly I need more. I want anything and everything this man is willing to give me.

“Please,” I gasp, voice splintering. “Steven—please—”

He chuckles.

“You think that counts as begging?” he rasps. “Sweetheart, you haven’t even fucking started.”

“I need—fuck—I need to come,” I pant, desperate now, pushing my ass back against him. “Please—”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even fucking budge.

“You think you’ve earned it?” he growls near my ear. “After the shit you pulled? After storming out like you don’t belong to me?”

I sob. My body’s on fire as actual tears run down my face. My cunt continues to clench around nothing, and honestly she’s probably crying too.

“I’ll be good,” I whisper, breaking. “I swear—whatever you want—just please—please fuck me—”

“Not good enough.”

His grip on my wrists loosens as he slides his hand up, catching me by the throat and dragging me upright against his chest.

“You wanna come?” he whispers. “Then say it.”

I whimper, barely able to breathe. The teeter-totter between pleasure and pain tilts hard, and I’m not sure which side is winning. I think he asked me something—but all I can focus on is the way his grip tightens around my throat.

He slides it lower between the swell of my breasts. He cups one, then the other, rough palms scraping across sensitive skin before he rolls my nipples between his fingers until I gasp.

It keeps trailing lower, over my stomach, between my thighs—until it finds my clit. One touch, and I forget how to fucking breathe.

He starts to circle it devastatingly slow, while his cock still teases at my entrance, refusing to move.

“Say it, beautiful girl,” he commands again. “That this perfect, filthy fucking body is mine to use. Mine to break. Mine to own.”

My eyes slam shut. And I say it—wrecked, and breathless—but I say it. “I’m yours.”

The second the words leave my mouth, he’s inside me—one brutal, punishing thrust that rips the air from me.

“Yeah you are,” he growls. “My perfect fucking brat.”

He grabs my hips and drives into me again like he’s claiming every inch and carving his name into my goddamn bones.

“You’ll never let anyone else touch you here,” his pace turns vicious. “Not your cunt. Not your ass. Not your fucking soul. You hear me?”

“Yes—yes—Steven, I—”

“Say it again, sweetheart.” Another savage thrust.

“Yours,” I sob. “Yours—all of it—fuck—”

My orgasm hits and I can feel him follow me right over the edge. I seize, knees giving out. I’d drop if he weren’t still holding me—still fucking me through it like he owns every broken, burning piece I just gave up.

He leans over me, still buried deep, both of us wrecked and panting over the counter, but he hasn’t let go. His lips brush the sensitive spot on my neck.

My body jolts. It should be too much—should terrify me—but instead, I feel myself getting turned on all over again, even when I can barely hold myself up.

God help me… I want that. I want him again.

Even now, with my sticky thighs, and lungs trying to reboot—I’d let him flip me over and ruin me again without question.