Sweet & A Bit Spicy

It wasn’t that she wanted to be disrespected.

But she wanted to be disrespected. Used. Pinned. Taken. As long as she didn’t have to think.

She’d fought it for days. Ignored the slick between her thighs. The ache in her belly. The way her brain shut off at the thought of someone strong enough to handle her—to throw her down and take what they wanted.

Then the Farrel came. Not asking. Not coaxing. Just choosing her.

And thank fuck he did.

She didn’t resist when he pushed her to her knees. Didn’t protest when he turned her around and bent her forward. Didn’t flinch when the thick heat of him pressed up against her cunt, already throbbing.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t check. He just fucked her.

Mounted. Claimed. Rutted into. Her thoughts slipped out with every thrust. All that control? Gone. All she had to do was take it.

And she did. God, she did.

Drooling into the sheets, moaning like a bitch in heat, slammed into over and over until she was crying and her cunt was gaping around his knot. Knotted. Stretched. Filled.

That was the moment she finally relaxed. That was the moment it all shut off.