Page 73 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“Wrong.” I grab her hips, positioning myself at the tip of her pussy. I press the head of my cock against her swollen clit. “I’m the man who is about to own you.”
I thrust.
I bury myself in her to the hilt in one stroke.
She screams.
I groan, throwing my head back as her tight, wet heat clamps around me. It’s overwhelming. It’s better than I imagined. It’s better than my fantasies.
“So tight,” I grit out. “Fuck, Tessa.”
I hold still for a second, letting her body stretch to accommodate the thickness of my cock. She’s panting, her nails digging into my shoulders, her heels locked at the small of my back.
“Move,” she begs. “Please, move.”
I withdraw almost completely, then slam back in.
We find a rhythm instantly. It’s not the slow, sensual rhythm I imagine she had with Owen. This is hard. Fast. Primal.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound of my hips hitting her ass echoes in the room. The desk shudders under us.
I lean down, bracing my hands on the marble on either side of her head. I stare into her eyes as I fuck her aggressively. I want to see everything. I want to see the pleasure take her.
“Keep your eyes open,” I order when her lashes flutter shut. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. I want you to see who is doing this to you.”
“You,” she gasps, her hips bucking to meet mine. “It’s you.”
“Yes.”
I grind my hips against hers, the impact bruising and heavy. I’m not just fucking her; I’m branding her. I’m burning out every trace of my brothers until she only knows this weight. This friction.
I drive into her, harder, deeper. I want to erase Owen’s touch. I want to drown out Asher’s kiss. I want to be the only thing she feels. The only thing she remembers.
My hand moves between us, finding her clit. I rub it hard and fast.
She throws her head back, biting her lip so hard it turns bloodless. She’s fighting it. She’s trying to stifle the sound, trying to hold onto some shred of control.
“Give it to me,” I growl against her ear.
“I can’t,” she sobs.
I grind my thumb against her, relentless.
She screams my name.
Her back arches off the desk, her heels digging into my hips as she finally surrenders. Her inner muscles spasm around me, milking me.
The sensation of her climax triggers mine. I can’t hold back. The control I pride myself on shatters into a million pieces.
I grab her hips, holding her in place as I piston into her. One. Two. Three.
I roar as I come, pouring myself into her, emptying everything I have—my anger, my fear, my desire—inside her.
I collapse on top of her, my face buried in the wreckage of her hair as I gasp for air.
We stay like that for a long time. The only sound is our ragged breathing and the hum of the servers in the distance.
