Esme’s POV
He now had my wrists bound.
The first thrust stole every ounce of air from my lungs.
He didn’t ease in. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He slammed into me with one brutal, punishing stroke, burying himself to the hilt in a single merciless drive. My back bowed off the bed, a raw scream tearing from my throat as my body tried to split apart around him. He was too big, too thick, too everything, and the stretch burned like fire.
Cole didn’t stop.
He pulled out only to slam back in, harder, deeper, the headboard cracking against the wall with every violent thrust. My bound wrists jerked painfully above my head, shoulders screaming from the strain. His hands gripped my hips so hard I felt bones grind, lifting me into every savage stroke like I was nothing more than a toy for
