Fury

His hands caressed my burning cheeks. “Good girl, princess. I hope you’re ready to get fucked. You asked for this, remember.”

“Yes, Sir. Let me be your little whore. Fuck me.”

Without warning his cock speared me to his root and I screamed.

“Screaming already?” he growled. “I’m just getting started.”

He gripped my hips and wasted no time thrashing my pussy with vigorous fuck strokes. It was as if he was pouring all of his anger and anguish into every thrust that tore into me.

I grasped the sheets, steadying myself on my forearms so he could use me the way he wanted. His cock was so fat, and the fucking so brutal, pain and pleasure mingled together unleashing the lust that had been buried inside me for years.

“Oh, God, oh, Ben,” I moaned. “Ah, oh my God!”

He wrapped my hair around his hand and yanked me, so my hands were flat against the mattress. “You’re fucking loving this, aren’t you, princess?”

“Ahh . . . Yes . . . Yes, Sir. Don’t stop.”

“No chance of that. I’ve wanted to fuck the shit out of you since the day I met you with all your fancy diplomas and your hair so perfect in a tight bun.”

Ben tugged on my hair, and I wailed.

“Christ, you’re such a little pain slut. The things I could do to you.”

After another series of rough thrusts, he freed my tangled locks, pushed my head into the mattress and spanked my ass again.

My entire being was reeling in carnal hunger as it climbed to the apex of an orgasm. I was there, right there, about to topple over into a euphoric release. Ben Logan was a bona fide sex God. He could fuck the stars out of the sky.