Page 85 of Manic

I’d never been more naked, yet I’d never felt more alive.

I rolled my hips, gliding against the hard ridges of his cock until every inch of me ached. A wave of pleasure rocked through my core, and I held back a moan.

Manic squeezed my neck, his mouth curving up, like something in him had unraveled and put itself back together. Air seized in my lungs. My nerves burned, my pulse pounding against his palm.

But I didn’t fear for my life.

No, the only thing I feared was dying before he fucked me.

Still firmly pinned against the wall, our gazes held as he nudged his swollen crown at my entrance. His free hand slid up my thigh, up my waist, and to the peak of my breast. He tugged my nipple, and my eyes practically rolled to the back of my head.

He chuckled lightly as his hand skimmed down my body again, savoring the feel of me against his palm. I squirmed when his fingers circled near my entrance and stopped. He coated them in my arousal, teasing me with deliberate strokes.

“Already so wet for me,” he mused, guiding his cock in an inch, slow and languid, before withdrawing.

I groaned, my pussy pulsing as he did it again. And again. Manic carefully assessed my reaction with a slow smile, entirely too pleased with himself.

“Either fuck me, or I’ll do it myself,” I hissed.

“So impatient,” he tisked. “As much as I enjoyed watching you fuck your fingers, you’re not doing that today. I’ll tie your hands up before you even think about taking what’s mine. I’ve waited far too long for you.”

My brows creased, but before I could utter a question, he buried himself inside me. I screamed at the pressure, and in one single exhale, he let out the most feral, most desperate sound I’d ever heard.

His eyes fluttered, and he heaved one long breath before his gaze settled on me again. Time stood entirely too still, our bodies locked and frozen in a tangle of limbs.

Desire and need tore through me.

Manic filled me so deeply, I felt him everywhere—my nerves, my bones, my soul. Like the stars aligned and the sky opened for both of us. And, for a split second, I wondered why I’d denied his advances for so long.

Manic bled power and an unnatural amount of confidence as his veined arms held me upright, my thighs trembling around his waist. Then he began to move.

Slowly. Carefully.

A calculated withdrawal before pushing back in.

He groaned, stretching the sound as he slid out of me again, my entire body aching for more. His fingers clamped around my pulse.

“I want you to feel what you do to me,” he breathed, and I moaned in response. “Louder. I want to hear those pretty little sounds you make.”

His movements were controlled, almost as if he were treasuring the feel of our bodies wrapped around each other. Then his eyes slid down, and a rough, hammering thrust had an involuntary moan escaping my throat. They snapped back up, locking on my face.

“Music to my ears,” he panted. “Your cunt… is like finding treasure at the end of a stubborn rainbow.”

“Did you just compare me to a leprechaun?”

He chuckled before driving into me again. Another sharp moan slipped out, and I rocked into him, eager for more friction as the pressure built.

“I’m the leprechaun, and you’re the fucking gold, baby.”

“Oh my god, stop talking.”

He immediately snapped into action, pounding into me over and over. I moaned, my pussy clenching around him as his balls slapped roughly against my ass—his movements rapt and quick and wild. My nails dug into his chest, and he hissed, releasing my throat to grip my thighs with both hands.

He pressed his thumb against my swollen clit, rubbing hard, frantic circles. I screwed my eyes shut, practically bursting as my orgasm rose unnervingly fast.

It shouldn’t be this good.

Being with Manic shouldn’t feel this good. But it did, and I wanted more. I was so greedy for it, I was willing to do anything to prolong this feeling.