Page 3

I kept my grip light. She was trembling, but she met my eyes. That mattered.

“Stand up,” I said quietly. She did.

“Take off your top, Lil Saint.” She hesitated for half a second before her hands moved. The black shirt came up and over her head. Her bra was simple, black cotton. She pulled it off.

What a shame—breasts so beautiful should be dressed in La Perla. They were heavy and dark-tipped.

“Now the pants.” Her fingers shook as she pushed them down slowly and stepped out of them.

Her thighs were soft, her stomach curved and plush.

She was beautiful in a way she clearly didn’t think mattered.

I could see it in her body language. She was self-conscious, the way women were when they’d been overlooked too long and taught that their softness was a flaw instead of a feast.

And I wanted to feast—to stuff myself full of her.

I wanted to snatch off the cloak she wrapped herself in and replace it with sweat, with whimpers, with the knowledge that someone saw her and was willing to lie, beg, cheat, steal, and bribe to have her.

It was a gnawing. A pull beneath my rib cage. A compulsion.

My breath snagged in my throat. Heat kicked under my skin, spreading like a brushfire. I clenched my fists just to feel my nails bite into my palms to calm me. Focus. Breathe. But my body wasn’t listening.

I drew in another deep breath to compose myself.

I reached out and ran my thumb over her thick bottom lip before I slowly pushed two fingers into her mouth and dragged them in, then out.

She sucked them like she was thinking about something filthier than just my fingers.

Lust-filled eyes. A sexy whine slipped past my fingers.

My dick leaked precum. She could ruin a good man’s discipline with her mouth.

I groaned and slid my fingers from between her lips. I groaned, sliding my fingers free. I needed to feel her, fill her, taste her.

“Turn around.” She dragged her movements out like she wanted to torture me.

Slowly, she turned, giving me the full view inch by inch.

I sighed, shaking my head. Her ass was perfect.

Round and soft. Her skin was so much a contrast to mine it made me ache a little, made me want to explore every inch of it.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears—erratic, too fast. Pathetic. I could’ve sworn she heard it.

“Bend over the arm of the couch.” She hesitated. I could feel she was thinking too hard and her pride and need were at war.

Impatience won out in me first. I moved behind her, close enough for her to feel how far gone I already was. My hand flattened on the small of her back, pressing her down slow, firm, leaving no room for second-guessing.

“There,” I said against her ear. “That wasn’t so hard.”

She turned her head just enough to look at me, her mouth twisting. She glared at me. I chuckled, pulled back. I slid her panties down her wide hips, over thick thighs; she stepped out of them. She flinched when I stroked between her thighs, testing how ready she was. She wasn’t. Not yet.

“From this moment on, you don’t tell me no,” I said. “You don’t hesitate. You don’t tell me what to do. You want to pay your sister’s debt. The cost is submission.”

She nodded once. It was not enough for me.

I brought my hand down on her ass—hard. Her body jerked forward from the impact; her breath caught in her throat. I felt it more than I heard it.

“Say it,” I demanded, my palm still resting on the heat of her skin. “I want to hear the words from your mouth.”

She turned her head slightly, eyes glassy, jaw tight. “I submit,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

I leaned in, mouth at her ear. “Louder.” Her grip on the chair tightened. “I submit,” she said again, and this time her voice didn’t shake. It broke.

“Good girl.”

She had acquiesced, and still—I wanted more.

I wanted her begging. Because that’s what this type of hunger does.

It doesn’t end because you get what you want.

That’s the thing about craving something that isn’t sustenance.

It gets louder. Meaner. Greedier. I had to control myself or I’d keep taking until there was nothing left of her but me.

I leaned down, mouth brushing the dip of her spine.

She whined low in her throat. I dragged my lips down her back slowly.

She stiffened, but I heard the moan slip out before she could stop it.

Her body gave me permission to continue.

My hand slid between her legs. Her thighs twitched, and I found her pussy slick and ready.

I kept going, kissed down to the swell of her ass. I spread the roundness open with both hands. She sucked in a breath. My tongue flicked, sliding between the globes of her ass. She bit down a sound, but her hips jerked away from my mouth.

“Don’t run,” I muttered against her ass cheek. “You take it.” I dug my blunt fingertips into her hips, holding her in place—tongue-fucking her asshole, then her wet slit until my face was covered in her juice and scent, until I was about to cum on myself before she came.

I stood. I shoved my knee between her thighs, forcing them wide, then stepped between them.

I undid my belt. The sound made her tense. Too impatient, I changed my mind about taking my pants off. I unzipped, pulled my dick through the hole of my boxers and slacks, rubbing the head against her dripping entrance. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away.

“You like this,” I said, voice low, taunting. “But you were nearly silent this entire time, trying so hard to act like you don’t need this.”

She said nothing, but her body told the truth. It was tight, trembling, slick, and open.

I grabbed her hips rougher this time, fingers biting into her soft flesh. Then I pushed in. All the way. No teasing. No pause. She gasped, her back arching.

I started to move, fucking her hard, dragging every ounce of tension out of her body one stroke at a time. She kept trying to stay quiet, to hold it together, but her hips met mine halfway every time—like she couldn’t help it.

I leaned down, my chest to her back, breath hot at her ear. “You may hate me right now,” I whispered. “But your pussy’s clenching and gripping me like it’s never been full before.”

She whimpered. There were no words—just heat and shame behind the sound.

“Say it,” I growled, my hand wrapping around her throat—not tight, just enough to keep her head tilted back. “Say you want it, Lil Saint.” I needed to hear her.

She didn’t—but her legs spread wider, and her ass pushed back, grinding into me.

I pushed in deeper, each hard stroke driving us both closer to the edge until her hips quivered against mine and a cry ripped from her throat, spilling into the air. My hand tightened around her waist as her walls clenched around me, dragging me over with her.

Her moans turned into breathless gasps. My orgasm hit me like a drug; it was dizzying and unleveling. I fucked into her until I was flooding her pussy.

We froze in the aftermath, sweat-slick and breathless, our pulses racing in sync. I lowered my forehead to the nape of her neck, lips brushing her skin as I whispered, “We’re even, but one more time, please.” “Okay,” she breathed out hard, arching into me.