Page 27 of Snowbound

“I’m going to fucking come,” he growls in my ear. “Jesus, you make me lose all self-control.”

I grin around his cock, holding his gaze, and suck harder.

“Now,” he hisses. “I want inside you. Don’t want to come in your mouth. Not this time.”

And when he pulls out, I’m trembling.

“Back on the couch,” he says, quiet but firm. I scramble into place without a thought. No hesitation. He doesn’t wait—doesn’t give me a breath—just flips me onto my stomach, hauls my hips up, and spreads me open like a promise.

My mind keeps spinning in a crazy loop, over and over again…Owen. This is Owen.

Owen wants you.

Owen owns you.

“I want to come in your pussy, and you’re going to come on my cock,” he whispers. “Do you understand me? And thenagain. And again. Until you’re crying for me, begging me to stop.”

Never. It’ll never happen. But I don’t say it. I don’t give him that. I don’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m on birth control,” I tell him instead. It feels like the right thing to say

“Good girl,” he growls.

Right.Good. Something buried deep inside me, the part of me that’s been ashamed and belittled, comes back to life at his praise.

He presses the thick head of his cock to my entrance, teasing, stroking.

Owen, this is OWEN.

If it were anyone else, I’d be asking questions. Has he been tested? Can I trust him? But this isn’t anyone else. This is Owen.MyOwen.

“Do you want this, baby?” he whispers, and my body clenches.

“Yes,” I sob. “God, Owen,please.”

One brutal thrust—he’s inside.

I exhale.

He fills me to the hilt, and my scream tears the air. It’s perfection—raw, primal, filthy perfection. He fucks me hard and fast, his grip tight on my hips, dragging me back to meet every brutal, punishing thrust.

I’m so full, stretched wide around him.

And he’s right. I’llneverforget what got me here. Not ever.

“You’re soaked,” he growls. “So fucking tight. Made for me. Jesus, you’re perfect. So made for me. Take it, baby.”

I can’t think. I can’t speak. I just moan, whimper, and do what he says—take it. And then his fingers find my clit again, and that’s it. Ishatter. I scream. My back arches as I come around him, pulsing and gasping, and he doesn’t stop, just keeps going. Keeps thrusting. Keeps rubbing. Keeps me right there—overstimulated and mindless.

“Give me another one, Emma,” he growls. His palm slaps my ass, sharp and arousing. “You fucking will.”

And I do.

The second orgasm hits like a freight train, fierce and relentless, dragged out until I’m sobbing into the couch cushions, my legs trembling, barely able to hold me up. When he finally slows, he leans over me, mouth hot against my spine, kissing his way down to my shoulder.

“We’re not done yet,” he whispers.

“Not until you’ve come with me inside you. Wrapped around me. While I spill every fucking drop of my cum in you. Do you understand me?”