Chapter 316 This pussy was mine

Chapter 316: Chapter 316 This pussy was mine

Aria’s POV

He pulled his fingers out of me and I actually whined at the loss, which I would have been embarrassed about if he’d given me half a second to think. He didn’t. He put those same fingers against my mouth.

"Clean them."

I opened. I tasted myself on his skin, salt and slick, and I sucked because he was watching me do it with his jaw locked and his eyes almost black.

When he took his hand away, his mouth replaced it, kissing me filthy and deep so he could taste it too.

Then he turned me around.

My palms hit the glass. The courtyard below was empty now, the ambulance long gone, just the floodlights and the dark hedges.

Damian yanked my dress up over my hips, hooked his fingers in my underwear, and ripped them down my thighs. The air hit my wet skin and I shivered.

I heard his belt. The drag of a zipper. Then the thick, heavy heat of him slapping up against the small of my back, and I felt how hard he was, how big, and my stomach clenched with that same mix of want and nerves it always did.

He dragged the head of his cock through the mess between my legs, not pushing in, just painting himself with me.

"You feel that?" His voice was right at my ear. One hand palmed my breast through the dress, squeezing until it almost hurt.

"That’s what you do to me. Every time. I stood down there and sentenced an entire pack and all I could think about was getting you upstairs and burying this in you until you couldn’t remember a single Holt name."

"Then do it," I whispered. "Stop talking and do it."

He laughed once, low, and then he shoved into me in one long, brutal stroke.

I cried out. My forehead dropped against the glass. He was too much, he was always too much, stretching me open until there was no room left for anything but him.

He didn’t wait. He pulled back and slammed in again, hips snapping, and the sound of skin on skin filled the room.

"Fuck," he gritted out. "Still so tight. Still takes me like you weren’t built for anyone else."

His hand left my breast and fisted in my hair, pulling my head back so I had to look at our faint reflection in the dark glass—my mouth open, my eyes wet, him behind me like something carved out of shadow.

"That’s because you weren’t. This pussy is mine. Say it."

"It’s yours."

"All of it. Every hole. Every sound you make. The way you drip when I talk to you like you’re nothing but a wet little toy I get to keep." He thrust harder, punching the breath out of me. "Say it, Aria."

"I’m yours." My voice didn’t even sound like mine. "I’m your toy. I’m your mate. I’m—God, Damian, I’m yours, please—"

"Please what? You want me to ruin this cunt? You want me to fuck you so full you feel it tomorrow when you sit down?"

"Yes. Yes, I want it, I want—"

He gave it to me. Hard, deep, relentless, the kind of fucking that didn’t pretend to be anything pretty. My breasts dragged against the inside of my dress with every thrust.

My thighs were shaking. I could hear how wet I was, how filthy it sounded every time he drove back in, and the shame of it only made me clench tighter around him.

"That’s it. Squeeze me. You don’t get to hold anything back. Not with me." His other hand slid down my stomach and found my clit, rubbing in rough, perfect circles that made my knees buckle.

He held me up by the hair and the hip and kept going. "Come on my cock like the greedy little thing you are. Let me feel it. Let the whole damn building hear what I do to you."

I came with a broken sound I couldn’t swallow, pulsing around him so hard it almost hurt. He didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, through the oversensitive shock of it, until I was sobbing out his name and pushing back on him anyway because I still wanted more.

He pulled out.

Before I could protest he hauled me off the wall, half-carried me to the bed, and threw me down on my back.