Page 108 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"FUCK!" We both scream it.

He's so deep I can feel him everywhere. The stretch burns perfect, my pussy clenching around him involuntarily.

Don't lose control. Set the pace that will make him suffer.

I start to move, rising up excruciatingly slow until just the tip remains, then slamming back down hard. Each movement creates those slick sounds that fill the room, my arousal coating him completely.

"Fuck." His hands fly toward my hips.

"I said don't move!" But my voice breaks because he's hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

His hands freeze mid-air, trembling with the effort to obey. "Mira, you feel—your pussy is so fucking tight—"

"Shut up." But I'm riding him harder now, chasing something. My breasts bounce with each movement, and sweat starts to bead between them despite the cool air.

This is control. I'm in control.

Except I'm not. My rhythm is getting desperate, my hips grinding in circles when I take him deep, trying to get more friction on my clit.

"Your face." His voice drops to that dangerous register I've heard maybe three times before. "You're not controlling anything right now. You're just fucking me because you need it."

"Shut—" The word breaks into a moan as he thrusts up to meet me.

"You're soaking my cock." Another thrust, deliberate and hard. "Can hear it every time you take me deep."

He's right. The slick sounds of our coupling fill the room. My thighs are drenched, his cock glistening with my arousal.

Don't let him take control. You're in charge. You're—

"You came here with no panties." His hands suddenly grab my hips—not asking permission, just taking. The grip is bruising, possessive. "Planned this. Wanted this."

"Let go—"

"No." He sits up in one fluid movement, changing the angle so he's even deeper inside me. One arm wraps around my waist while the other hand threads through my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. "My turn."

The shift is immediate and devastating. Eager-to-please Jax disappears completely, replaced by someone who moves with savage confidence. He could have done this anytime. He's stronger, bigger. He was letting me dominate.

Before I can protest, he flips us. The movement is fluid, controlled—all that mercenary training on display. My back hits the mattress and suddenly I'm pinned under two hundred pounds of muscle who's done playing submissive.

"You've been in charge since day one." He pulls almost completely out, then slams back in hard enough to make me scream. The headboard slams against the brick wall. "Controlling every kiss. Every touch. Every fuck."

I try to hook his leg with mine, a move that should give me leverage, but he anticipates it. His hand grabs my thigh, pushing it up and out, opening me wider. The position lets him sink even deeper, hitting places that make thought impossible.

"Not this time." He grinds against my clit and my back arches off the bed. "This time you're going to lose control."

"Fuck you—"

"Currently happening." He sets a brutal pace, each thrust hitting that spot that makes my vision blur. "God, you're drenched for me."

Don't make noise. Don't give him the satisfaction of—

"Let me hear you." His mouth finds my neck, biting hard enough to mark. The pain shoots straight to my clit. "Stop fighting it and let me hear how good I make you feel."

"I don't—" The words dissolve into a moan as he shifts his angle.

"There we go." He does it again, and again, until I'm making sounds I've never made before. Desperate, broken sounds. "That's my girl. So fucking beautiful when you stop pretending."

My girl. The possessive term makes everything clench.