Something about Kieran calling me a bad girl is thrilling. Suddenly, he backs off and pulls me to my feet. He works my pants free and whisks them down. Remembering last time - and the damaged fragments of my favorite lace panties I had to throw away - I drop my panties as he picks me up like I weigh nothing and drops me back on the bed. There’s nothing sweet or gentle about this time.

And it’s fucking amazing.

He’s savage as he wrenches the offending clothes off me. When I’m naked before him, he takes a moment to drink me in and remove his pants before climbing on top of me. He’s powerful, all muscle and sinew.

He’s sexy, the kind of powerful that’s not honed in the gym, but perhaps from something more intense, like calisthenics.

His hands feel huge as they capture mine. Palm to palm, I surrender to his lips as he plunders my mouth and lifts my hands over my head in a helpless position that’s too sexy. I can’t even breathe, I’m just pinned under him, desperate for more, more, more. His teeth close over my lower lip and I whimper as he pulls back a bit.

Then, he’s positioned against me, the tip of him persuading my body to open for him. I tilt my hips, every bit of me hungry to feel him again. I’ve wanted this since we did it last. Every dream has been him, fucking me.

And this primal, rough side of him is so much more sexy than the sweet fantasy I’d had.

Suddenly, the world shifts and I find myself on top.

I cry out as he fills me. I want to ease off, but his hands find my hips and hold me prisoner. I look down at him, shocked at the dark fury and raw desire in his eyes. He releases me to grab the free sheet on my bed. I watch, unsure what he’s about to do as he brings it behind my ass and grabs it in both hands.

Then he pulls me forward, both arms flexing as he fills me so far I feel like I’m going to split. It’s painful, but so damn amazing at the same time, I’m conflicted.

“Hold on,” he growls, nudging his chin at the heavy wooden headboard at the top of my bed. I grab it, aware it puts my chest on display, but helps me balance so much better. Then, he’s moving me. The sheet holds my ass prisoner and he’s merciless as he hauls me forward and lets me rock back.

But the sensations! The pressure on my clit is unbearable and shoves me headlong toward orgasm, while my body adjusts to how deep he is, how hard, how unforgiving. There’s nothing sweet about this. This isn’t lovemaking. This is raw, angry sex, and it’s fucking amazing.

His whole body works like a rower as he moves me and I just hold on, glad for the support. Every pull makes my tits bounce, and I see him smile a small, cruel smile as he studies me.

Everything works in tandem as he forces my body to act as he wants it. And I watch him, startled by all of it. It feels too good. It’s too rough. He’s such a bastard.

“Don’t stop,” I whisper, feeling my body creeping closer to the brink of orgasm. Why had I ever thought that sweet and gentle was sexy? Why had I never considered angry fucking to be the hottest thing ever?

“You’re going to come,” he growls, his intense ice blue eyes raging like fire as he captures me in his stare. The challenge is enough to balance me somewhere between wanting to do as he says and not doing so just to spite him.

But screw spiting him, I’m going to enjoy this. Every last pulsing, wet, incredible second of it. And that means an orgasm. One more intense than any masturbation session has brought me. Something more breathtaking and earth-shattering than I’ve ever reached myself.

“Emma,” He says, bringing me back to him, to this moment he’s creating in my heart and soul, “I need you to come, now.”

And, as if my body was simply waiting for this order from him, everything comes together and explodes outward in an impossible exposition of pleasure. The clenching of my core aches throughout my whole being and the way my body shudders is beyond my control.

And through it, he’s watching me, his face tightly controlled as my world falls to pieces and washes away in waves of destruction. But it’s beautiful. He seems to swell in me as the pulsing of my pussy clamps down on him, holding him tightly, embracing him like I’m both trying to expel him and hold him hostage.

How has he managed to have such an impact on my life? Why am I here, riding the incredible cock of a man who has done everything in his power to destroy my life? And why is it so devastatingly amazing?

As the pleasure begins to fade to a warmth that’s soothing and begs me to rest, he gathers me into his chest and holds me tightly.

And I can’t help myself. “Don’t worry, I’m still clean,” I murmur as his arms lock around me.

“And still on the pill?” he says. I lift my head from where I’m listening to his slowing heart. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a humor that’s alien. But it’s humor.

“Nope,” I say, giving it right back. If he wants to play, I’ll play. “Some rich guy was plowing me, so I figured I’d get pregnant and trap him.”

“Well fuck,” he says, shifting a little bit to find a more comfortable position. “Someone should warn the poor bastard.”

I feel his lips rest on the top of my head as my body melts into him. And the sudden sense that all is well fills me. He’s not making a big deal of things. He let me tease him for his screw up. Hell, he poked fun at himself. Most guys would be total assholes if I pointed out their mistakes. Not him. He took it like a champ and even played right into more jokes.

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.