Chapter 46 Chapter Forty-five
ARA
At first, Thayne froze like a statue above me, his lips sealed shut. I instantly regretted initiating a kiss. What had come over me, grabbing him like that and pressing my lips against his?
I was just about to pull away, regret and embarrassment boiling inside me, when Thayne's hand slipped underneath me and rolled us so he was the one underneath and I was straddling him.
Fuck. This new position plus our still wet clothes caused our bodies to mold together perfectly. My pussy pulsed with heat where Thayne's hard length was pressed against me.
Thayne didn't even give me time to adjust to the feeling of being on top. He grabbed the back of my head and tugged me down. When our lips connected, it was like the world exploded around us and the only thing left was fire.
His mouth crashed into mine with a violence that stole the air from my lungs, teeth clashing, tongue forcing its way past my lips like he owned every inch of me.
He tasted like chlorine and rage and something darker, something that made my spine arch involuntarily.
I tried to gasp; he swallowed the sound, bit my lower lip hard enough that copper bloomed across my tongue, and growled into my mouth.
“You little thief,” he rasped against my bruised lips, hips surging up so the thick ridge of his cock ground against my clit through two layers of soaked fabric.
“You thought you could play me?”
I whimpered, tried to speak, but he yanked my hair harder, forcing my throat to bare.
His teeth sank into the tendon there, sharp and punishing, and the pain shot straight between my legs like lightning. My pussy clenched so hard I felt empty, aching, desperate.
“Thayne—”
“Shut up.” His free hand ripped the front of my dress open in one brutal tug.
Cool air hit my wet skin; my nipples stiffened instantly, begging. He stared at them like he wanted to devour me whole, then latched onto one with his mouth.
He didn’t suck gently. He attacked. Teeth scraping, tongue lashing, suction so vicious my back bowed and a broken cry tore out of me.
The pain was bright, electric, perfect. My hips rolled helplessly, grinding my soaked thong against his trousers, leaving a shameful wet streak on the expensive wool.
“You stole from me,” he snarled, switching to the other breast and biting down until I sobbed. “You lied to me. You let another woman’s orders crawl inside that pretty head.” Every word was punctuated by a vicious thrust of his hips, driving the seam of his zipper against my clit until sparks exploded behind my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, clawing at his shoulders, trying to get closer, trying to get away, I didn’t even know anymore.
“I was scared, I—”
“Scared?” He laughed, dark and humorless, and suddenly his hand was between my legs, ripping my thong aside like it offended him.
Two fingers speared into me without warning, thick and unforgiving, stretching my soaked walls in one brutal shove.
I screamed. The sound ricocheted inside the car, raw and animal.
“You’re scared now?” he taunted, curling those fingers hard against my front wall, forcing my pussy to flutter helplessly around the invasion.
“Your cunt’s weeping for me, Ara. Dripping down my wrist like a desperate little slut.”
I couldn’t answer. My head thrashed side to side as he finger-fucked me mercilessly, thumb grinding my clit in tight, ruthless circles.
Every thrust of his hand sent a wet, obscene sound through the car, proof of how shamefully ready I was.
“Please,” I sobbed, nails raking down his neck, drawing blood. “Thayne, please—”
“Please what?” He added a third finger, forcing me open wider, the burn exquisite.
“Please stop? Or please wreck this lying little pussy until you can’t remember your own name?”
I came with a wail, back snapping, vision whiting out. My walls clamped down on his fingers so hard he cursed, low and filthy, pumping me through it until I was shaking, tears and pool water streaking my cheeks.
He didn’t give me time to breathe.
Before the last spasm left my body, he yanked his fingers free and shoved them into my mouth. I tasted myself, sharp and musky, as he tore his belt open with his other hand.
“Suck,” he ordered, eyes black with lust and fury. “Taste how much your body wants to be punished.”
I sucked greedily, tongue swirling, hollowing my cheeks. He groaned, head falling back against the leather seat for one single heartbeat.
Then he was moving.
He flipped me onto my stomach across his lap like I weighed nothing, dress bunched around my waist, ass in the air. My knees barely touched the floor mat; he held me pinned with one iron forearm across my back.
“You want to steal from me?” The first slap landed on my bare ass with a crack that made me jerk and cry out.
Heat bloomed instantly, fierce and stinging. “You want to lie to my face?” Another slap, harder, on the other cheek.
My skin burned; tears sprang to my eyes.
“Thayne—”
Another smack, right across the tender undercurve where my ass met my thigh. I screamed into the seat, the sound muffled by leather.
“Count,” he snarled. “Count, or I won’t stop until you’re raw.”
“O-one,” I sobbed, trembling.
He didn’t hold back. His palm fell again and again, precise, vicious, painting my skin crimson.
Each blow jolted me forward, nipples dragging across his wet trousers, clit rubbing the ridge of his thigh until I was humping the air shamelessly.
By ten, I was a wreck—sobbing, begging, dripping down my own thighs.
At fifteen, he stopped. I felt his fingers trace the welts gently, almost reverently, and then his mouth; hot, open-mouthed kisses over the burning flesh, tongue soothing the sting even as his teeth nipped sharp enough to keep the pain alive.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he whispered against my skin, voice ragged. “Marked by me. Crying for me.”
I couldn’t speak. Could only whine and push back, desperate for more.
He flipped me again, this time onto my back across the long leather seat. My punished ass hit the cold surface and I yelped, but he was already shoving my thighs apart, spreading me wide.
The limousine’s privacy screen was up; the driver couldn’t see, but the knowledge that we were hurtling through the city while Thayne wrecked me made it dirtier.
He freed his cock with one hand, thick, flushed, a bead of precome glistening at the slit. My mouth watered even as fear and need twisted inside me. He was huge, always had been, but right now he looked downright menacing.
“Look at me,” he commanded, fist stroking himself once, twice, slow and threatening.
“You’re going to take every inch. And you’re going to thank me for it.”
He dragged the head through my folds, coating himself in my slick, teasing my clit until I was writhing.
Then he notched at my entrance and slammed home in one brutal thrust.
The stretch burned. I was wet, obscenely so, but he was merciless, forcing my body to yield.
My back arched off the seat, a strangled scream ripping from my throat as he bottomed out, balls pressed tight against my ass.
“Fuck,” he hissed, holding still for one heartbeat, just one, letting me feel how perfectly he split me open.
“This cunt was made for me. Made to be fucked raw.” He growled.
Then he moved.
There was no gentle rhythm, no slow build.
He fucked me like he hated me—like he loved me—like he wanted to punish me and worship me in the same breath.
His hips snapped with savage force, each thrust driving me up the seat until my head banged against the door.
He dragged me back down by the hips, fingers bruising, and did it again.
The limousine rocked with the power of it. Every plunge dragged the head of his cock across that spot inside me that made my toes curl.
My nails clawed at his back, ripping his wet shirt, scoring skin. He snarled and fucked me harder, angling his hips so his pubic bone ground against my clit with every stroke.
It was too much. Pleasure and pain blurred into one blinding wave. My ass still throbbed from the spanking, my breasts ached from his earlier bites, my pussy felt flayed open and rebuilt around his cock.
“Thayne—Thayne—” I was babbling, incoherent, tears streaming.
He gripped my throat, not squeezing, just holding me there, pinning me under the weight of his stare.
“You’re mine,” he growled, voice shredded. “This body, this treacherous little heart—mine. Say it.”
“Yours,” I sobbed, clenching around him helplessly.
“All yours, please—”
He slammed deep and held, grinding, forcing my pussy to take him to the root. His other hand snaked between us, thumb finding my clit and rubbing hard, fast, merciless.
“Come,” he ordered. “Come on my cock while I fill you up. Mark you inside like I marked your skin.”
I didn't come.
I shattered.
The orgasm tore through me like a bomb, back bowing, breath stopping, vision blacking out.
My pussy spasmed so hard it hurt, milking him in ruthless pulses. He cursed, hips stuttering, and then he was coming.
Hot, thick jets painting my walls, claiming me from the inside out.
He didn’t stop moving. Even as he came, he kept fucking me through it, drawing out every aftershock until I was limp, oversensitive, whimpering with each thrust.
Only when I was a boneless, trembling mess did he slow. He pulled out slowly, watching his come leak from my swollen pussy with dark satisfaction. Then he gathered me against his chest, both of us soaked, shaking, wrecked.
His lips brushed my temple, gentle now, almost tender.
“Never steal from me again, Ara,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Next time, I won’t be this gentle.”
I laughed—or tried to; it came out a broken sob—and buried my face in his neck.
There wouldn’t be a next time.
I was already his. Completely. Irrevocably.
Even if it hurt.
Especially because it hurt.