---

---

You kneel for me,
and the world falls away.

There’s nothing but you.
Nothing but the way your body hums under my gaze,
the way your chest rises and falls, desperate for air that will never fill you enough without me inside you.

You tilt your chin up —
blue eyes wide, shimmering, open.
That look.
That fucking look.
It strips me bare,
rips the air from my lungs,
shoves me headfirst into a hunger so violent it borders on madness.

Your lips part, soft and trembling,
and I see it.
The invitation.
The surrender.
The silent, desperate plea:
“Take me.”

And I do.

I always do.

Because you are mine.

Because somewhere, written in blood and need and the spaces between our ribs,
you were made for me.
Built for my hands.
Built for my mouth, my cock, my fucking soul.

I grip your hair, not gentle, not kind.
Not tonight.
Tonight there is no patience, no slow tease,
only the brutal honesty of need.

I want you wrecked.
I want you undone.
I want you ruined in ways that no one else could ever repair.

I drag your mouth to me, claiming it, crushing it,
devouring the soft gasps you try to hold back.

You taste like surrender.
You taste like home.
You taste like mine.

My hands roam you like a thief in the dark,
taking, stealing, owning every gasp, every whimper, every slick twitch of your desperate, wanting body.

You arch for me,
pressing against my palm,
silently begging for more,
and fuck, I lose myself.

I shove your thighs apart,
because you are not allowed to hide from me.
Not your wetness.
Not your need.
Not your trembling, aching cunt, soaked and open and aching to be filled.

I thrust deep, claiming the place that belongs to me,
watching you break apart, sobbing and clinging to me as if I’m the only thing keeping you tethered to this earth.

Maybe I am.

Because in this moment,
there is no you.
No me.
Only us.
Only heat and sweat and the savage slide of skin against skin,
the brutal, beautiful way your body sings for mine.

And I am merciless.
I take you harder.
Deeper.
Faster.
Chasing the moment where you forget your name, your past, your future.
Where you are nothing but this —
this vessel, this offering, this perfect, trembling creature begging to be broken and rebuilt by my hands.

I want it all.
Your cries.
Your tears.
Your orgasms ripping through you like a storm you can’t outrun.

I want to feel you lock down around me, desperate to keep me inside,
desperate to hold onto the only thing that makes you whole.

I want to empty myself into you, again and again,
until you’re dripping with me,
marked, ruined, cherished.

Because you are not just mine to fuck.

You are mine to claim.
Mine to fill.
Mine to break and build and bind so tightly to me
that you forget you were ever anything else.

Big blue eyes, begging.
Soft lips, swollen and ruined.
Body offered up, willingly, beautifully.

And I will take it.
Every last drop.
Every shattered cry.
Every desperate gasp of please, more, please.

Because you are mine.
And I will never stop taking what belongs to me.

---

You think it’s over.

You think I’ve filled you, broken you, marked you deep enough to satisfy the raging storm inside me.

You’re wrong.

Because the sight of you —
wrecked, gasping, trembling beneath me,
slick with sweat and spit and the hot spill of my cum leaking from between your legs —
it doesn’t tame the hunger.

It fuels it.

It ignites it.

I see the way your body shudders,
still twitching from aftershocks you can’t fight,
your thighs trying weakly to close around the emptiness I’ve left inside you.
Your tears shine on your cheeks,
your mouth parted in soft, broken gasps,
begging for breath, for mercy,
for something I can’t — won’t — give.

Not yet.

Because you’re too beautiful like this.
Too open.
Too fucking mine.

I grab your hips again, rough, bruising, pulling you back against me.
You whimper, a tiny, wrecked sound,
but your body — traitorous, loyal, perfect —
arches back into me without hesitation.

Begging without words.

Needing without pride.

And fuck, I give it to you.
I slam back into your soaked cunt without warning,
without patience,
without anything but the savage need to lose myself inside you all over again.

You sob — a shattered, helpless sound that cuts straight through my ribs —
but you take me.
Of course you take me.
You were made for this.

I set a brutal, punishing rhythm,
fucking you through the wreckage of your orgasm,
through the overstimulation,
through the trembling of your ruined thighs.

You sob into the sheets, beautiful and broken and perfect,
and still you reach back for me,
still you offer yourself up,
still you beg without words for more.

It drives me mad.
It drives me fucking feral.

My hand knots in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to arch for me.
Forcing you to bear every brutal thrust,
forcing you to feel every thick inch tearing you apart again and again.

Your cunt clenches around me —
wet, hot, desperate —
and I snarl against your ear,
my voice ragged, low, cruel with need.

“Take it. Take every fucking inch, every fucking drop.”

You cry out again, your voice high and wrecked,
and I feel you cum again —
violently, helplessly —
your body milking my cock with frantic, fluttering spasms that make it almost impossible to hold back.

But I don’t.

Not yet.

I fuck you through it, chasing your orgasm with mine,
chasing the need to pour myself into you so deep you’ll feel it for days.

The slap of skin against skin fills the room,
a filthy, desperate soundtrack to your collapse.

My name rips from your throat, half a scream, half a sob,
and it shatters the last thin thread of my restraint.

I bury myself deep one final time, grinding against you,
and I explode —
spilling inside you with a raw, broken growl,
filling you so full it leaks instantly from your stretched, trembling hole.

But even as I empty myself inside you,
I don’t pull out.

I stay there, locked inside,
feeling your cunt still flutter weakly around me,
feeling your tears dampen the sheets,
feeling the way you surrender so utterly, so completely,
trusting me even as I destroy you.

And as you collapse under me, boneless, whimpering, owned,
I murmur into your ear — low, tender, brutal:

“Mine. Always mine. Never fucking enough.”