Page 39 of Terms of Exposure
The muscles in my toes unclenched.
Crack.
A guttural growl rumbled from his chest.
Then the bed shifted, his weight dipping the mattress. An arm slid under my hips, pulling me onto my knees, hand still firm against the back of my head.
This time there was no preamble. No adjustment period.
Just Damien's raw, unrestrained need.
He stretched me wide in one smooth thrust before retreating. The beginnings of a punishing rhythm building.
His hand twisted in my hair—a scream tore free as strands pulled loose.
But he didn't stop.
Crack.
The sting followed, sharp against the outside of my hip.
A scream into the bedding, heat flooding through me.
Crack.
Pain and pleasure blurring into one.
Crack.
Too much and not enough. The need for more overwhelming. An arm flung back, searching for him, met with only air.
"Tell me what you want." Damien's rough voice vibrated against my back.
Rambling words spilled out, absorbed by the fabric.
"What was that?" A tease entered his voice, punctuated by another devastating snap of his hips. "I couldn't hear you."
Crack.
A scream, desperation clawing at my throat.
And then movement—pulled by the hand fisting my hair, light blinding as my back met the sweat-slick skin of his chest.
His fingers closed around my throat, catching on the collar that sealed me as his, then squeezed.
Air caught in my lungs, its escape thwarted. He splayed a hand against my stomach, pushing me down as he thrust up into me. A scream tried to form, a cry, but there was no air.
Vision blurred at the edges as my mind spun, threatening to slip under.
Crack.
Another sting of impact, hitting like a defibrillator. Eyes flew wide before rolling back.
This could kill me, I realized, mind growing hazy, lightheaded from lack of air.
His fingers dug deeper into skin.
And I couldn't envision a better way to go out.
