THRUST!
The first thrust stole the air from her lungs.
SLAM!
The second made her see stars.
SLA—
By the third, Angela had forgotten how to do anything but moan his name and claw at the sheets, her body arching to meet his with every punishing stroke.
"Stevan—ah—fuck—" Her voice cracked, high and breathless. He was relentless, driving into her with raw, unhinged hunger he had only ever shown behind closed doors—bars—where no one else could see.
But they weren't in the dungeon now. They were in her bed, in her palace, surrounded by the trappings of her former life, and the contrast made it all the more obscene.
"That's it—" he growled, his hands pinned her hip to the mattress. "You do so well taking it."
Her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back, and she pulled him deeper, gasping when he hit that spot inside her that made her vision blur.
