Page 24 of Vance

I glare up at him, humiliation and need warring inside me. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the idea.” He grinds against me, hitting that spot again, making me moan despite myself. “But you’re not getting there until you admit what you want. Until you ask me nicely.”

He fucks me slowly, deliberately, pulling out to the tip and sliding back in with torturous patience, his fingers dancing around my clit without ever giving me enough pressure to push me over the precipice. I’m sobbing from what feels like hours of being kept on the edge, my body a tightly coiled spring, and my pride in tatters around me.

“Tell Daddy you need to come,” he whispers his silky command into my ear. “Beg like the good little wife you’re going to be for me. Beg me to let you come on my cock. Beg for Daddy.”

Daddy.

It’s obscene and demeaning, exactly the kind of power play I should hate. But combined with the way he’s moving inside me, his fingers circling my clit again, and the way my body is screaming for release, I’d call him King Arthur of fucking Camelot to end this torture.

“Please,” I groan, the word torn from my throat.

“Please, what?”

“Please… Daddy.” The word tastes strange and humiliating, yet it sends a dark thrill through me that I don’t want to examine. “Please let me come, Daddy. I need to come. Please.”

“Good girl. You beg so fucking pretty,” he growls, fucking me in earnest again. His thrusts are hard, fast, and merciless, his fingers pressing on my clit with perfect pressure. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come for Daddy. Show me how good you can be.”

A scream tears from my throat that he swallows with his mouth as an orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave. It’s so intense, it borders on pain, my body convulsing as my nails rake down his back hard enough to draw blood. He fucks me through it, prolonging the euphoria. I’m not afforded the opportunity to come down from my high before he uses my responsive sensitivity to pull me toward the edge once more.

“That’s it,” he grits against my neck. “Keep coming for Daddy.”

He makes me come—again and again—until I’m sated, exhausted, and have actual tears streaming down my face. Unstoppable, they fall as sobs shake my chest when he demands yet another orgasm from me.

He slows his movements, drawing out each thrust until he’s buried deep and still inside me, letting me feel the full weight and heat of his body. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, gingerly wiping away a tear with his thumb. “I don’t think either of us were prepared for how much your little pussy was going to love my big fucking cock.”

Trembling beneath him, my body oversensitive and raw, every nerve ending screaming with the aftermath of too much pleasure, I struggle to answer. When I do find my breath enough to try, nothing passes over my lips but a squeak as he drives back into me.

“You’re mine now,” he whispers, his voice rough with dark satisfaction. “Every tear, every tremor, every fucking orgasm I give you⁠—”

“I hate you,” I sob, the words breaking on my lips as my body arches helplessly into his touch, betraying me with every shuddered breath.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, almost tenderly, pressing a kiss to my tear-streaked cheek. “But you love how fucking good I make you feel.”

Without warning, his hips snap forward with renewed urgency, pistoning into me with a rhythm that demands everything I have left. “Come for me again,” he growls. “One more time. Give me one more, and I’ll give you what you really need.”

I’m sobbing and shaking, my body pushed beyond its limits, but he doesn’t stop. He drives into me harder and deeper, hitting the spot inside me that makes my vision blur at the edges, until I’m screaming his name as another orgasm tears through me, brutal and devastating.

His body goes rigid above me, his head thrown back on a moan that sounds like my name torn from his throat. He pulses inside me, hot and thick. I feel every spurt with devastating clarity, the warmth of him flooding me, filling me, and claiming me as his.

When he finally stills, he doesn’t collapse on top of me. He pulls out slowly and plants his large hands on my thighs. Spread wide, I feel his heated gaze as he stares at my well-fucked pussy.

“Fuck,” he groans, the sound raw and satisfied when he sees what he’s done to me. “Look at you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, humiliation burning through me.

“You’re so fucking full of my cum, it’s spilling out of your little cunt.” His finger traces my swollen folds, gathering the evidence of our coupling. Wiping at it with the back of his knuckle, he nudges it back into my overflowing pussy with a tenderness that makes me gasp. “Wasted on the sheets. Every drop belongs in this perfect little hole until you’re growing round with my child.”

He pushes his fingers into me, working his seed deeper, and I arch helplessly at the intrusion. When he finally withdraws his hand, the mattress dips as he stretches out beside me. His arm drapes over my waist, pulling me into his chest until I’m spooned against him, surrounded by his heat and the undeniable reality that I willfully let him not only fuck me, but come inside me.

Hell, I fucked begged for it.

His hand splays across my stomach, possessive and purposeful, his palm warm against my skin.

“Being my wife won’t be all bad, sweetheart,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice soft in a way that feels more dangerous than his cruelty. “I’ll take care of you. You’ll want for nothing. And when you give me what I want…” His hand strokes slow circles beneath my abdomen, the implication clear. “I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

I should push him away, but my body is exhausted, my mind is numb, and his chest—with its steady, strong heartbeat—is warm against my back. I tell myself I’m only letting him hold me because I don’t have the energy to resist, and I’m too tired to move.