Chapter 321 You were going to ruin me

Chapter 321: Chapter 321 You were going to ruin me

Aria’s POV

He didn’t give me a chance to catch my breath.

His mouth was already on my collarbone, open and wet, biting down like he meant to leave proof, and my spine arched off the sheets with a sound I didn’t recognize as mine.

"We literally just—last night we—"

"Not enough." His teeth dragged over the curve of my shoulder and bit, hard enough to make me gasp, and heat ripped straight through my belly, thick and immediate. I was already wet. Already aching. "Nothing’s ever enough with you. You want me to stop?"

I hated that he asked. I hated more that we both already knew the answer.

My hands fisted in his hair instead of pushing him off. My thighs fell open like they’d been waiting for him. The shirt of his I’d been wearing was already shoved up around my ribs, baring my breasts, and he made a low, vicious sound as he palmed one, squeezing, thumb dragging over my nipple until it peaked and stung.

Then his mouth was on it. Hot. Wet. Sucking hard enough that my back bowed and a broken noise tore out of me.

"No," I gasped. "Don’t you dare stop."

That got me a sound low in his chest, dark and satisfied, and then his hand shoved between my legs and I lost every clever thing I’d meant to say.

I was soaked. Filthy with it. Slick coating my inner thighs, clinging to his fingers the second he touched me. He dragged two fingers through the mess of me, slow enough that my hips chased them, then shoved them into me without warning.

I cried out.

"Look at you." His voice was wrecked already, rough at the edges. "Already dripping down my wrist. This greedy little cunt didn’t even need me to touch it."

He curled his fingers, found that spot, and I clenched around him so hard I saw white. "Begging. Fucking *begging*."

"Shut up—" It broke off into a moan as he pulled his fingers out, slick and shining, and shoved them into my mouth. "Taste it. Taste how badly you want it."

I did. I sucked his fingers clean because I couldn’t not, because my body had already decided, and the sound he made was almost a growl.

Then he was on me.

He shoved my thighs wider, lined himself up, and drove into me in one brutal thrust—thick, deep, no warning, stretching me around him until my whole body clenched so hard I couldn’t breathe.

I was still tender from last night and it only made it worse. Fuller. Sharper. So good it bordered on pain.

"Fuck—*Damian*—"

He didn’t ease me into it. He never does when he gets like this. When that possessive edge takes over and something in him just needs to have me, fill me, wreck me until I can’t think.

He fucked into me hard. Deep. The headboard slamming the wall.

His hand splayed low on my stomach, pressing down, like he could already feel what he was trying to put there, like he could feel himself moving inside me from the outside.

"Right here." He snarled it against my ear, hips snapping into me, grinding deep on every thrust like he wanted to stay buried. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room.

I was so wet it was obscene. "This is where I want you. Stuffed full of me. Dripping. Say it."

"You’re insane—" My nails raked down his back, catching on the old scar at his shoulder, and he hissed and drove into me harder, pinning my wrists over my head with one hand.

I could feel how easily he slid in and out of me, how my body kept sucking him back in, greedy and shameless. "Damian—*God*—harder—"

"Say it, Aria." Sweeter now, coaxing, but he didn’t slow.

If anything he went deeper, rolling his hips until he was hitting that spot on every stroke, until I was shaking, sobbing, trying to take him and failing to keep any composure at all.

His other hand shoved between us, thumb finding my clit, rubbing in tight, filthy circles that made my thoughts scatter and my legs lock around his waist. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want this cunt full. Tell me you want me to breed you."

I couldn’t think. That was the thing—he stripped it out of me every time. Every ounce of the composed, careful woman everyone else got.

With him I was just this: trembling, greedy, dripping around his cock, past the point of caring what came out of my mouth.

"Yes," I gasped, and I meant it, wrecked and wet and clinging to him.

"Yes, I want it—I want you to come in me—*there*, don’t stop, *please*—fill me, Damian, I want a baby, I want—*fuck*—"

He groaned like the words hit him somewhere physical and lost whatever control he’d been pretending to have.

He pinned my wrists harder, folded me open, and took me apart.

Slow, deep, deliberate strokes that had me sobbing his name into the dark, then harder, faster, the kind of fucking that left no room for anything but *him*.

Every drag out left me empty and aching. Every push in stretched me open around him until I was shaking, clenching, trying to keep him, trying to take more.

"That’s it. Take it. Take all of it." His mouth was on my throat, biting, sucking a mark into me while he fucked me through the mattress. "Squeeze me just like that. You’re going to take every drop. You’re going to give me everything. This cunt was made for this."

I came so hard I couldn’t breathe through it.

It ripped through me in helpless, violent waves, clenching around him, soaking him, a broken cry tearing out of my throat. He didn’t stop.

He pressed his mouth to my throat and kept going, kept whispering filthy, tender things—*that’s it, come on my cock, good girl, you’re going to take another, you’re going to take it until you can’t*—until I broke apart a second time, sobbing, oversensitive, still being fucked through it.

He came with a groan against my skin, buried to the hilt, hips grinding through it like he was trying to push it deeper, like he could fuck it into my womb if he just stayed close enough.

I felt him pulse inside me, hot and thick, and my body fluttered around him like it wanted to keep it, like it knew exactly what he was doing.

He didn’t pull out.

He stayed inside me, his weight a warm, heavy cage, his hand still splayed over my belly like he was standing guard over it. I could feel him leaking out around his cock and he only pressed closer, shoving it back in with a slow grind of his hips, like he refused to let any of it go.

My heart was slamming. His breath was ragged against my hair.

"You’re going to ruin me," I mumbled, boneless, my voice thick.

"That’s the plan." I felt him smile. He tipped my hips up, unhurried, tucking a pillow beneath me with a shameless kind of care, and I was too spent to even swat at him. "Stay like that."

"I hate you," I said, and it came out soft as anything.

"No, you don’t." He kissed my shoulder, right over the mark he’d left. "You love me. And by morning you’ll be begging me to do it all over again."

The infuriating thing was, curled boneless against his chest with his heartbeat steadying under my cheek, I already knew he was right.