Skye’s POV
He pulled out of me slowly and the loss of him made me whimper.
His hands left my body for a brief moment and I heard him exhale‚ long and controlled‚ like he was steadying himself.
Then his hands were on my waist again‚ turning me to face him.
“Stand up straight‚” he said.
My legs were barely functioning.
“Thorne‚ I don’t think I can—”
”Stand up straight‚ Skye.”
I straightened my body on trembling legs‚ using the counter behind me for support‚ and looked up at him.
His tie was loosened‚ the top button of his shirt undone‚ and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
His eyes were still that burning‚ molten color that wasn’t quite blue and wasn’t quite gold‚ and he was still hard‚ still thick‚ still very clearly not finished.
He positioned me sideways so that my left side was facing the mirror.
Then he took my left hand and placed it flat on the marble counter.
“Hold yourself steady‚” he said.
Before I could ask what he was doing‚ he reached down and hooked his right hand under my right knee.
He lifted my leg up and out to the side‚ opening me up completely while I balanced on my left leg with my left hand gripping the counter for dear life.
My body was slightly slanted‚ leaning into the marble slab for support‚ and I could see everything in the mirror beside us‚ my raised leg in his grip‚ his body pressed against mine from behind‚ the way my dress was still bunched uselessly around my waist like a silk belt.
I reached down with my right hand and helped support my raised leg‚ gripping just above my knee to take some of the weight off.
He entered me from behind.
The angle was completely different this time.
Deeper.
So deep that the first thrust made a sound come out of me that was half moan and half sob‚ and my left hand nearly slipped off the counter from the force of it.
“Hold on‚” he growled against my ear.
“Don’t let go.”
He started moving.
There was nothing slow about it.
Nothing careful or measured or controlled.
He thrust into me with a force and a speed that made my entire body rock forward with each stroke‚ and the only things keeping me from collapsing onto the floor were my hand on the counter and his grip on my raised leg that held me open and exposed and completely at his mercy.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and the image nearly broke me.
My breasts were bouncing with every thrust‚ hard and fast and completely free because there was nothing left of my dress to cover them.
My mouth was hanging open and a thin line of drool had slipped from the corner of my lip and was trailing down my chin because I didn’t have a free hand to wipe it and couldn’t have coordinated the movement even if I did.
My eyes were wet with tears that had nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with the overwhelming‚ all-consuming‚ almost unbearable pleasure that was flooding through my body with every single thrust.
“Thorne‚” I sobbed‚ his name coming out garbled and barely recognizable as a word.
“Thorne‚ please‚ I can’t‚ I can’t take it‚ it’s too much‚ please—”
”You can.
You were made for it.
Perfect just for me‚” He groaned‚ not even slowing down for a second.
He thrust harder.
Deeper.
His grip tightened on my leg and his other hand came around and pressed flat against my lower stomach‚ holding me steady against him while he drove into me with a brutality that was going to leave me unable to walk tomorrow and I didn’t care. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
I didn’t care about anything except the feeling of him inside me and the sound of his groans against my ear and the sight of us in that mirror‚ tangled and desperate and completely lost in each other.
My tears spilled over and rolled down my cheeks.
Not from pain.
Not from sadness.
But from the sheer‚ overwhelming intensity of feeling this much all at once‚ his body and mine moving together in a rhythm that felt like it had existed long before either of us were born‚ like our bodies had always known how to do this even if our minds were still catching up.
He was grunting with every thrust now‚ low and rough and animalistic‚ each sound sending another wave of heat through my core that told me I was close again‚ impossibly close‚ even though I had just come minutes ago and shouldn’t have had anything left to give.
Then he started to slow down.
Gradually.
His thrusts became longer‚ harder‚ more deliberate‚ each one punctuated by a groan that rumbled out of his chest and vibrated against my back like thunder rolling through his entire body.
His grip on my raised leg tightened and his breathing turned into something ragged and uneven‚ each exhale shaking on the way out of his lungs.
“Fuck‚” he groaned‚ the word coming out rough and broken and desperate in a way I had never heard from him before.
His forehead dropped against the back of my shoulder and I could feel the sweat on his skin pressing into mine‚ hot and damp and real.
“Fuck‚ Skye.
So fucking sweet.
So fucking beautiful.”
His hips stuttered.
Then‚ in one sudden‚ urgent motion‚ he pulled out of me so fast‚ groaning deeply as he came hard against the mirror in front of us‚ thick and hot‚ splashing across the glass and dripping down the marble slab in long‚ slow streaks.