When he sinks into me, it’s not slow. It’s not a question. It’s a statement, sharp and hard, and I gasp because even with everything I’d expected, I hadn’t been ready for this.
He thrusts in deep, his fingers digging into my hips to hold me still, and the breath rips out of my lungs.
“That body’s mine,” he growls, his voice breaking against the skin of my throat, every word punctuated by a brutal, claiming thrust.
I laugh, breathless, shaking, and full of fire. “Keep dreaming.”
I slam my palm into his chest and twist beneath him, our bodies still tangled. He fights it, but I’ve already got the leverage. With a vicious grunt, I flip us, straddling him hard enough that his head knocks back against the concrete. He grabs my thighs on instinct, but I’m already moving, riding him with a pac
