His lips dive deeply into my pussy, and I echo out a resounding cry of pleasurable pain.

He’s fingering me too, grazing his long fingers over my G-spot, back and forth, to the point that I think I might die.

The orgasm is coming and rising like a tidal wave, and I can’t resist his tongue and teeth and his hot mouth on me.

“Oh, Tristan, please stop. I swear I’m coming so hard for you.”

He doesn’t stop. My words mean nothing to him. He’ll do as he wills; he always does.

And right now, he wants to taste me.

My Montague prince, this man I was raised to be so afraid of, has become my new obsession. He’s all-consuming, and he makes me feel as though I could fly. And indeed I do.

With a circular motion of his tongue around my clit, I’m flying high over the edge of all reality and into unknown bliss.

The thing about it is I know I will safely fall into his arms.

No matter how deep he forces me to go, I can always come back up for air with him as my ultimate guide. He’d rather die than see me fall eternally.

I raise my hips up to meet his mouth as I come hard. And he tastes me, licking away so much of my essence.

A dark expression crosses his face and then he’s pulling up, spreading my legs wide so that he can fuck me.

I’m not yet ready. I haven’t yet come down from the earth-shattering climax that’s still coursing through my body.

“Tristan, no, I’m still not ready. It’s too soon.”

A wicked kind of grin spreads across his face. “Oh, but you are ready, Isobel.”

He thrusts into me deeply, and I cry out, and soon my orgasm is heightening, threatening to peak to unknown realms.

He pumps into me slowly and with ease, knowing that for every second he draws out the pleasure, my climax is reaching new heights.

“Fuck, Tristan. Oh my god. It’s so fucking good. I’m gonna die,” I say as I erupt again and again around him.

“You’re not gonna die, my princess. You’re just with me now, and brace yourself because it’s always gonna be this way,” he says as he pumps in and out, faster and faster.

I’m gone, beyond this realm and the next.

I am his forever.

He thrusts into me hard, and he pulls me up so that our lips meet in the most intimate of kisses.

He drags his teeth along my bottom lip while ensuring that his cock is finding new reaches within.

“Isobel, look at me.”

I do as he says. I gaze into his eyes even though every part of me is saying to look away. He’s too deep, too intense, too everything.

He looks at me, peering into the depths of my soul, into the recesses of everything I’ve been hiding from the world.

He sees me. All of me.

He wants me. All of me.

I am free in the knowledge that there’s nothing he doesn’t see. There’s no part of me he doesn’t want.

He kisses me one last time, and I clench my arms around his neck. He moves my hips up in a rhythmic motion, guiding me to help him achieve maximum pleasure. And my pussy throbs and tightens around him as he hits my G-spot.

His nails dig into the side of my slim hips that rest freely in his hands.

He kisses me hard and then he throws me back down on the bed and flips me over.

It all happens so fast.

He cinches my wrists together with one strong hand. And then I feel the tip of his cock at the edge of my ass, and it sends a shudder of fear through my body.

I can’t take him like that.

“It’s too much, Tristan. I can’t.”

He spits on his hand and strokes his cock while still holding me in place. Then he inserts the tip at my most private hole—just the tip to acclimatize me to his size.

Nothing could prepare me for this.

“I can’t, Tristan. It’s too much.”

“Do you trust me, Isobel? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” I whimper, not sure if I even believe myself.

“It’s okay,” he says, and his voice is rough.

I feel his ragged, heated breath along my back, and he bends over me, keeping me in place.

I try to move away from his grasp. But he keeps me held down.

His cock slides in a little deeper, and I feel my ass spreading and tearing. He pumps into me quickly and releases his hold on my wrists, knowing that now, I’m not going anywhere.

“Finger yourself, baby. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

Fuck no, I will not.

I can’t do this.

But then I follow his command. I finger myself and squeeze my eyes shut to prevent tears from falling.

He quickens his thrusting, and to my surprise, it starts to feel good in that torturous kind of way.

I finger my clit, and it helps, and soon I find myself accepting him with more ease. I even start to crave the feel of his giant cock filling me up so much.

“Tristan, oh my fuck,” I say in between breaths.

“Tell me I’m your master. Tell me I own you,” he damn near growls. “And then beg me for more.”

I can’t do it.

I don’t know what to say or how to say it. But for as long as I waver, he forces himself into me harder.

“Say it, Isobel.”

The words escape my lips before I even know what I’m saying. “Fuck yes, master. Oh God, I fucking want it. It feels so good, and I want more.”

I’m sincerely begging now because if he doesn’t give it to me now, harder than ever, I think I’ll explode from want and need.

I claw at the sheets and attempt to steady myself against the bed and then he gives me exactly what I want.

“Good fucking slut. You know you want this cock in all the ways that you can get it. I told you to trust me, Isobel. And now you know why.”

He says the words, and I suddenly understand their meaning as he pumps into my ass so quickly that it hurts—but the pain escalates into pleasure, and I can’t tell the difference anymore.

I don’t know what I want.

But he makes me understand.

He grips my ass and slides his cock so expertly into me.

“You’re so fucking good, Isobel. And now I’m going to come into your tight little hole.”

I barely hear him, because I’m spiraling out of control. I rub my clit, and soon, the climax is hitting me hard from all directions.

I’m coming hard from my clit and from deep inside, and it’s all too much.

But Tristan’s got me covered. He holds me solidly and breathes hard, making sure I feel every fucking inch of him and I do.

I feel him in my soul and my body.

He pumps his load into me and then he pulls out, and I feel his cum spray all over my ass and back.

I fall to the bed in a heap of exhaustion, head spinning.

He falls next to me, and he holds me and kisses my shoulder.

We’re sweaty and tired.

“Don’t ever run from me, Isobel. Trust me, and don’t turn your back on me. I can’t lose you.”

“Yes, Tristan,” I say because I don’t know how else to phrase it.

Internally, I’m worried about him and the oncoming battle. My father knows our location, and that can’t be a good sign.

I’ve never been so close to a Montague before, and it might be dangerous territory, but I’m in love, and there’s no going back.

“I’m yours,” I whisper. “Forever.”

He tightens his hold on my breasts and around my waist and then we fall into a deep sleep.

I dream of marrying Tristan one day and of our happiness being everlasting.