Chapter 169
LEVI
One hand found the back of my neck, the other trailed down, fingers teasing impossible places. The rhythm she chose was her own, an uneven tide that pulled me under and left me gasping on the crest. I could tell she was chasing her pleasure and trying to give me mine at the same time—trying to find the perfect pace for us—but her pace was already perfect: all haphazard, all shaky.
Her laughter braided with her moans, a crazy, fierce music that set my skin alight.
“Baby, you are so sweet,” she breathed between kisses to my chest. “This feels so good.” Her words were almost worship. I lost the ability to think in anything but sensation. Time narrowed to the press of skin, the sound of our bodies, the hot slick whisper of us fitting together.
I had my mouth open, words lost somewhere between heat and want, my throat dry, pulse hammering like it would burst through my chest. She leaned in, brushing her lips against mine in a teasing, almost stolen kiss.
“Do you like it?” she whispered, eyes locked on mine, teeth catching my lower lip as she asked. My body trembled under her, every movement of her riding me spelling out the letters of my surrender on my cock. I was so close—so impossibly close—to the edge, and all I wanted was for her to keep going. I didn’t want her to stop, didn’t want anything to interrupt the flow of us. I wanted it to come and take me whole, to have me sinking in it.
She licked my lips, soft and teasing, then pressed again, harder this time, and it sent a jolt straight through me. My hand slipped slowly down her side, tracing the curve of her body, breath ragged as I tried to anchor myself. Her touch, the heat of her skin, the slick rhythm—it all built a tension in me that was unbearable.
Then she moved in closer, and the sharp, teasing swipe of her lips against mine ignited a fire that left me gasping, jolting me back to the present then she did it again every slap reminded me who was in control, who owned the moment, who owned me.
I loved the sting of it.
“I love it,” I groaned, voice rough, trembling against her mouth. I cupped her face, pulling her closer, needing to taste her, feel her, sink into her. “And I love you,” I breathed, surrendering fully.
The words barely left my lips before the edge swallowed me, but she didn’t stop. Her eyes caught mine, fierce and unyielding, as she leaned into me, riding me with a slow, deliberate rhythm that made my body betray me.
“Please… it’s too… fuck—it’s too good! I can’t—fuck—you’re my sweet mistress!” I choked out, every syllable ragged with need.
She pressed her hand over my mouth, silencing me with a simple, commanding “Shh.” My breath hitched against her palm as she leaned in closer, hips rolling back with a rhythm that was almost reckless, untamed, slow, fast, in between… as if she had surrendered entirely to the role I had given her tonight. And then it hit me—she was perfect. Maybe not a perfect Dom, But the perfect woman for me, All that could fulfil my desires in flesh.
“Good boy,” she purred, her voice low, dark, possessive. My cock throbbed beneath her, every nerve alive with fire. Her hand slid from my lips into my mouth—four fingers, warm and insistent—while the other pressed firmly against my throat. I obeyed without hesitation, sucking her fingers like a dog desperate for approval, desperate to please her.
She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, both hands still on my throat, fingers firm and commanding. A wicked, satisfied smile curved her lips. “Say it,” she commanded, her voice sharp, yet soft, raw. “Say you are my good boy.”
And I did, my voice muffled, raw choking: “I… I am… your good boy.”
Her smile widened, victorious and teasing, and she leaned down to kiss me again, teeth brushing my lips, claiming me with every movement, every flick of her tongue, every press of her hips.
“I am… your good boy,” I repeated, pressing into her, matching her rhythm, my body desperate to follow her every movement.
“Tell me you belong to me,” she commanded, nails tracing down my chest, leaving sharp, delicious trails of fire across my skin.
“I belong to you,” I admitted, voice raw. “My body, my mind… everything is yours. No one else… ever.”
“You would never be in anyone else but me.”
“My dick belongs to you.”
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she leaned in, pressing hers against mine again, tasting and claiming me. The way she moved—slow, calculated, perfectly controlled—made every nerve in my body ignite. My cock throbbed inside her, so close to a release.
Her hands gripped my face, my neck, my shoulders, guiding me, controlling me, teaching me the rhythm of surrender. I moaned into her mouth, riding the edge with her, her pace dictating every movement, every heartbeat, every gasp. She was in command, and I was lost, deliciously, irrevocably hers.
Every thrust, every deliberate sway of her hips sent me spiraling deeper, unraveling me with each movement. When she pressed her body fully against mine, I felt it—her intoxicating, absolute domination, the way she owned me with every motion.
I came with a guttural, shuddering groan, body convulsing beneath her, as she leaned down, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing against mine. “Fuck… Isabella,” I gasped, lost to the fire of her control.
She didn’t stop. Her rhythm intensified, riding me with reckless precision, and I realized—she was chasing her own edge as relentlessly as she pushed mine. Finally, when she tumbled over her climax, spent and trembling, she collapsed onto my chest, breath hot and ragged, our bodies wet and intertwined.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
