Driven By Fate(16)

Her neck weakened, sending her head falling back against the pillar. “Do it, please. Just do it.”

Porter caught her jaw and tilted it up, bringing their faces close. So close. He hadn’t kissed her yet, she realized. Would he? She grew distracted when the fingers of his other hand trailed up her inner thigh. Pride and vanity gone completely out the window, she moaned beneath his perusal. His mouth fell open like he wanted to swallow the sound, a sound that only grew louder when he found her center. Two fingers massaged the material of her panties, over the top of her clit. The leather of the belt creaked as she strained, her bottom writhing on the pillar.

Porter knuckled under the white cotton, gritting his teeth as he inserted one long, firm finger. “Ah, Christ. I lied, Francesca.” His finger moved deep inside her, crooking, pushing deeper. All the while, he growled in his throat, a noise that echoed in her bloodstream. “The panties will have to come off. Nothing is going to come between me and this sopping wet beginner’s *.” His forehead pressed into hers; their open lips came excruciatingly close. “If I go down on you, I’ll be there for an hour. Would you like that? Or is it time to f*ck?”

Every ounce of breath rushed from her lungs, her thoughts scattered. Save one. “Fuck me, please. Please.”

His hold on her chin strengthened. “Remember who you’re speaking to.”

“Please, my lord.”

Eyelids falling to half-mast, Porter released the grip on her chin. Without shame, she watched him unbutton his black dress pants, then unzip them and reach inside. When he drew out his length, holding it tightly in his fist, Frankie sagged against the post. Oh, Jesus. It was above average in length, yes, but that wasn’t what made her thighs squeeze together, her breasts to swell. Thick. He was so thick. Even his long-fingered, masculine hand couldn’t wrap completely around as he secured a condom, rolling it tip to root.

“I’ve already told one lie tonight, so I won’t tell you that you’ll get used to it.” He released himself to yank the panties down her legs, before surging between them, his thickness pushing against her bare flesh. “This cock will make you scream every damn time.”

Porter filled her. Frankie tried to trap the scream, but it wouldn’t be contained. It reverberated inside her head, twining around his groan of satisfaction. Her feet were off the ground now, only her toes brushing the rug beneath. Without the use of her arms, she had to rely on his body for balance. He gave it to her by pinning her against the pillar, every inch of him buried inside her. He hadn’t moved since his initial thrust, his mouth buried at her neck. It gave her a sense of comfort, comfort that flew away in fractured pieces when he bit her. Bit her hard.

“Ah!”

Her legs flew up, her only form of defense against the pleasure-pain. He caught her knees with his hands and hiked them higher around his waist. “When I bit you, I slid in even deeper.” His lips moved at her neck, over the bite mark. “Made you wet, didn’t it? Bad little beginner.”

Frankie’s response died on her tongue when his hips rolled. Her knees, on either side of his waist, tried to shoot together, but his body kept them wide and open for his assault. With each expert rotation of his hips, he drew out every stiff inch until only the fat head of his arousal remained, before pushing deep, deep, deep once again. Her restrained hands flexed with the need to hold on to something, anything that would absorb some of the relentless tension. It built and built. “Dammit, dammit,” she moaned. “Please, I— Faster. Oh my god, please.”

“You’re a mouthy brat until I get you crammed tight, hmm?”

He devastated her with a series of quick thrusts, drawing pleading words and promises past her lips. “Yes. More, more. More.”

“More, more,” he repeated. “You don’t hate me so much once I’ve stuffed you full of my cock. Isn’t that right, Francesca? We’ll have to make sure you spend a lot of time with your legs spread so you don’t forget.” With her thighs clenched tight around him, he released his hold on her knees to brace his hands on the pillar. His arm muscles shifted, bulged. In the near-darkness of the living room, he was brutal, sexual power in a raw, unyielding package. Her back slid up the hard surface with the force of his thrusts, causing the belt to tighten even more. She liked it. No, loved. Loved the freedom of being restrained. She’d given everything over to him; her pleasure was in his hands.

The increased pace of his drives turned her into someone unrecognizable. Release became the only option. It would save her from drowning. Her hips used what little mobility they had to meet his thrusts, to bear down on his length each time. Porter issued groan after groan above her head, spiking every sensation with the knowledge that he was finding his own pleasure…through her. Her nipples dragged up and down his sweating chest, over and over, the friction stoking the fire in her core. Even through the haze of lust and need, there was clarity. This was what she’d been chasing. Right here.

“Walk into my room looking for a spanking?” He growled the words against her mouth. “You either picked the wrong door, or the right one, because it doesn’t stop there. This is what you get, Francesca. You get chased down, bitten, and drilled. By me. Nobody else.” His hands dropped to her thighs, wrenching them higher. “You will not walk through any other doors. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”