You Mean The World To Me
LILIANA’S POV
The second Ronny’s cock filled me, I swore the world disappeared. The water pounding against my skin, the steam fogging up the shower glass, even the pounding of my own heart—none of it mattered compared to the feeling of him inside me. Stretching me, claiming me, owning me.
His breath was ragged, his jaw clenched tight, and for a moment he didn’t move. His hands were flat against the tile on either side of my head, muscles bunching, trembling like he was fighting himself.
Slow. That’s how he started.
He pulled out just a little, then pushed back in, deliberate, steady, like he wanted to torture us both. Each thrust was a tease, dragging me inch by inch, making my body scream for more.
“Ronny…” My voice came out broken, already begging. I locked my legs tighter around his waist, nails digging into the slick skin of his back. “Please. Faster. I’m fine.”
His head dropped, lips brushing my ear, his breath hot and uneven. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,”
“Yes, I do.” I tilted my head back, forcing him to look at me, to see the desperation in my eyes. “Please. I need you. All of you. Don’t hold back.”
For a second, his expression flickered, torn between restraint and the wild storm I knew lived inside him. Then something snapped.
A guttural sound tore from his chest as his mouth crashed onto mine. His tongue thrust deep, swallowing the moan I let out as his hips finally slammed forward.
The force of it made my back smack against the tiles, made my cry break into his kiss. He didn’t stop—he pulled back and slammed into me again, harder, faster, brutal in his need. The wet sound of our bodies colliding filled the shower, the sharp slap of skin against skin mixing with the rush of water and my choked, desperate moans.
“Fuck—Ronny—” I gasped, tugging at his dripping hair, clinging to him like I was going to drown without him. Every thrust drove me higher, every movement shaking something loose inside me.
He growled into my mouth, deep and animalistic, his hips pistoning faster, harder, like he was determined to fuck me into the wall, into the ground, into himself.
“Yes—yes, oh my God—” My voice broke into a scream as pleasure ripped through me, sharp and consuming.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark fire. His hand slid up, fingers wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, controlling. “Scream for me, baby,” he demanded, his voice a low, brutal rasp. “Scream louder.”
“Ronny!” I cried out, my nails scraping down his back.
“Say my name,” he ordered, thrusting harder, deeper, slamming me so hard against the wall the tiles rattled.
“Ronny!” My scream echoed through the steam, raw, broken, everything inside me pouring into it. “Oh my God—Ronny!”
His lips crashed onto mine again, swallowing the sound, devouring me like he couldn’t get enough.
And still, he wasn’t done.
With a rough groan, he spun me around, pressing my chest to the slick tiles, my palms slapping flat against the wall to steady myself. He yanked my hips back, his cock slipping out for the barest second before he drove back inside me from behind.
I screamed again, the sound ricocheting off the bathroom walls.
His hand came down hard against my ass, the sharp sting making me cry out before he soothed it with his palm, kneading, spreading me wider for him. Then he leaned in, his chest pressing against my soaked back, his mouth finding my shoulder. He bit down lightly, then kissed over the sting, his lips trailing fire over my skin as he slammed into me again and again.
“Fuck—fuck—” I could barely breathe, every thrust stealing my air, every drag of his cock hitting deep, right where I was weakest.
“You love this, don’t you?” he growled against my ear, teeth grazing my lobe. “You love when I fuck you like this. Rough. Raw. The way only I can.”
“Yes!” I screamed, my head falling back against his shoulder. “God, yes, Ronny—harder—don’t stop—”
My body was unraveling, pleasure winding so tight I thought I might snap in half. His hips pounded against me, relentless, his rhythm brutal, unforgiving, like he wanted to brand me with every thrust.
And I wanted it. Needed it.
The sound of skin slapping, the shower pounding, our moans tangled together—it was too much, too good, too everything.
“Ronny—oh God—I’m gonna—”
“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his voice rough, breaking apart. His thrusts grew harder, deeper, his body shaking against mine. “Cum on my cock. Now.”
His words shattered me. My scream ripped out of me, high and raw, as my orgasm crashed through me like lightning. My walls clenched tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper, and I screamed his name again and again as the pleasure wracked me.
“Yes—fuck—Liliana—” His groan tore into my ear, his hips stuttering as he slammed one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His whole body went rigid, his cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside me. He cursed, loud and guttural, his forehead pressed to the back of my shoulder as he emptied every drop.
We stayed like that, trembling, shaking, the water cascading over us, washing away everything but the heat between us. My body sagged against the wall, weak, trembling, and still he held me, his arms banded around my waist like he couldn’t let go.
Slowly, he turned me in his arms, pressing me back against the tiles, his lips finding mine again. This time it wasn’t rough, wasn’t punishing—it was slow, tender, reverent.
His thumb brushed over my cheek, his wet hair dripping against my forehead as his eyes locked onto mine.
“You mean so much to me, Liliana,” he whispered, his voice raw, trembling with something deeper than lust. He kissed me again, softly, almost broken. “You mean the world to me.”
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