Page 55 of Seven Lost Summers (Broken Oasis #3)

My legs lock around his waist, holding him there, needing him deeper.

My fingers jerk against my clit, twitching against the slick, swollen nub as the pleasure spirals out, fast and cruel. The muscles in my stomach seize. My nipples ache. Every nerve is wide open and screaming.

He keeps fucking me through it.

His cock drives into me again and again. Every thrust sends another jolt of pleasure through my oversensitive body.

I can’t think.

I can’t speak.

All I can do is take it.

I’m dripping. Soaking. The sheets are wet under my ass. His cock slides through it all, thick and perfect, hitting that place inside me that makes me see stars. My moans fall into breathless gasps. My body locks up again, tighter this time.

He growls something I can’t even register over the sound of my own moans. He fucks me through the orgasm, until I’m twitching, overstimulated, wrecked beyond recognition.

And even then, I still want more. Because nothing has ever felt this good.

He pulls out, leaving me trembling. My body is desperate with everything he’s taken from me. There’s no warning, no pause. Just his hands grabbing my hips and flipping me over.

My cheek hits the pillow. His hand fists in my hair, dragging my head back until my spine bows.

I gasp.

His hand slides lower. Rough palm on the curve of my ass. Fingers slipping down, parting me without hesitation. I suck in a breath as my body braces, ready to take him where he fucked me yesterday.

Instead, his hand moves down lower. Spreading me open until the swollen heat of my pussy is bared to him completely.

A growl tears from his throat.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters.

I whimper as his fingers stroke once, teasing my entrance. After that, the head of his cock presses where I need him most. Not against my ass but pressed to my pussy.

He groans. “Fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet.”

He holds himself there for a beat. Long enough to make me ache, to make me beg again if he wanted. His cock teases the swollen entrance of my pussy, the tip nudging in enough to tease me with the stretch.

“You want this?” he asks, voice filthy. “You want my cock again?”

“Yes,” I breathe out.

He slams into me.

There’s no easing in.

No building up.

Only the brutal thrust of his cock filling me in one hard, unforgiving drive.

My whole body jolts forward. My breath leaves me in a broken scream.

He fucks me hard. The sound of skin on skin is deafening. Wet. Loud. Feral.

He leans forward, slipping his arm tight around my stomach, lifting me in one smooth, brutal motion.

My back crashes against his chest, slick with sweat, his skin burning against mine.

His cock never leaves me. He’s still buried, fucking me hard.

I gasp, head falling back onto his shoulder as he forces me upright on his cock, speared open and held there like I belong to him.

His breath fans hot against the shell of my ear, as his hand slides around, rough and possessive, gripping the front of my throat. Not enough to hurt, enough to claim. To make sure I know I’m his.

“You’ve already come,” he growls in my ear. “Now I’m gonna take what I fucking need.”

He thrusts up, hard and deep, and I moan so loud it tears from my throat raw.

My hands scramble for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing—only him.

Only this. His cock slamming into me again and again with a pace that’s feral and possessive.

No rhythm, no mercy, nothing but pure, filthy intent.

“I swear to God,” he hisses against my ear, fucking me harder. “You come again before I do, and I’ll bend you over and start all over again.”

He shifts behind me. His legs spread wider, his thrusts deeper now, grinding into the place that makes my entire body seize up. His hand stays locked at my throat, not choking, but holding, owning, reminding me that I’m his to use.

My moans are helpless and broken. There’s no pride left in me. No shame. Only need.

His breath scorches the shell of my ear, each brutal thrust tearing a sound from my throat, a half-moan, half whimper.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Fucked out. All from my cock.”

His hand slides from my throat, trailing down to my chest. He grabs my breast hard, his palm rough, his fingers pinching my nipple. I cry out, the sting blurring with the pleasure building from the inside.

“You love this,” he whispers. “You love being used. Being mine. Say it.”

“Yes,” I gasp. “Fuck, yes.”

He laughs behind me. “Good girl.”

He thrusts into me again, harder, deeper, driving everything else out of my mind. Over and over, I’m falling and he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.

His body presses tighter against mine, his skin slick with sweat, his breath dragging ragged across the side of my neck. Every thrust rocks me forward, my breath catching, my thoughts scattering.

His hand moves lower, skimming down my stomach, lighting every nerve on fire.

I can’t breathe or think.

My thighs are wide open, aching, slick, trembling. I should care, should be embarrassed by how much I want him. But I’m not. I want him deeper. I want him to tear the rest of me apart.

“You’re shaking. Fucking desperate. Say it.” He growls into my ear, voice thick with need. “Say your cock filled pussy wants to fucking come again.”

And I can’t deny it. Not with the way my body is already unraveling again. Not with the way he knows exactly how to break me open and keep going until I forget my own name.

The only sound I manage is a whimper.

He laughs. It’s dark and breathless and his hand is between my legs, fingers moving over my clit while his cock drives into me with a ruthless rhythm.

“I’ll let you come on my cock,” he growls, dragging his mouth along my neck. “I’m gonna fill you so fucking deep you’ll feel it tomorrow. You’ll feel me when you walk. When you sit. Every time you close your legs, you’ll remember this. How hard I fucked you and how you begged for it.”

His fingers flick my clit.

“That’s what I want,” he mutters darkly.

“To know that when you touch yourself tomorrow, when your fingers slide over this swollen little clit, you’ll remember exactly how it felt.

My hands. My mouth. My cock. All of it. And you’ll fucking cry because you’ll know nothing you do will ever come close to this. ”

I break.

The orgasm hits so hard I scream. My body clamps down, spasming around his cock. He fucks me through it, harder, filthier, until I’m gasping.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “You’re mine now.”

My legs shake under me. My entire body is twitching, destroyed and yet I still want more. I don’t even recognize the sound that leaves my throat.

He leans forward, dragging his mouth down my neck, teeth grazing before his lips close hard around my skin. One mark. Then another. And another. Each one darker than the last until I’m left bruised and burning everywhere his mouth claims me.

He thrusts, sudden and deep, and I feel his whole body lock behind me.

Every ridge of his abs strains tight against my back, his chest heaving with the force of it.

His thighs drive hard into the backs of mine as his hand slides back to my throat, tightening just enough to trap me in that perfect place between submission and madness.

He comes with a sound I’ll never forget.

A broken groan, torn from somewhere deep inside him.

His body locks, cock buried to the hilt, pulsing as he spills inside me.

Hot. Thick. Endless. My pussy clenches greedily around every drop, every throb of him setting off aftershocks that leave my legs trembling.

He yanks me flush against his chest, holding me there while his cock drives into me through every clenching wave.

Each thrust drags out the high, every inch of him claiming more as he empties inside me.

His teeth bite into the curve of my neck.

The sting burns through the haze, and then he seals it with his mouth, sucking until the blood surges to the surface, until the pain blooms. I cry out, my head falling back against his shoulder, body trembling.

And still he doesn’t let go.

He licks the spot he just marked. His tongue dragging over the sting until I’m panting again, the heat between my legs reigniting even though I’m already spent.

He kisses the side of my neck. Softer this time.

But the edge is still there. The hunger, the claim, that possessive, filthy growl still buried under his breath.

“Mine,” he whispers, voice rough against my skin.

And fuck, there’s no doubt in my mind.

I am his. I always fucking was.

His arms stay locked around me.

One across my stomach, the other still cradling my throat. His body pressed into every inch of mine, keeping me there, keeping me his.

And for the first time in years, I feel complete.

Even if I know it won’t last.

Even if we break apart again tomorrow.

Right now, at this moment, he’s mine. And I’m his.

Because now I know exactly what it feels like to be fucked by Nate Reynolds until I come so hard I forget my own fucking name.

And I’ll never stop chasing it.