Chapter 160
He was a player, always had been, and Betsy loved him for it-the raw edge, the danger that made her pulse race Those filthy words spilling from his lips? They set her on fire every thine, twisting her insides with a hunger she couldn’t deny. And he knew it, oh he knew, and even now, with her heart cracking under the weight of her unhappiness, he wielded it like a weapon, turning her vulnerability into his playground.
“Let me give you the best fuck of your life, sweetheart,” Ben growled low against her ear, his voice thick with lust, sending shivers racing down her spine. “Let me pleasure you with me driving deep inside you, just the way you like it-hard, relentless, filling you up until you can’t think straight.”
Her back arched against his chest, the heat of his body searing through her like a brand. God, she wanted to turn, to crash her lips against his, to pour out the storm of emotions churning Inside her-love, frustration, desperate need. But his grip tightened on her waist, iron-strong and unyielding, holding her in place as if she were his to command.
Before she could even form a protest, his hands moved with fast purpose. He shoved his trousers down his legs, kicking them aside in a rough motion that made her heart pound. Then, in one fluid yank, he stripped her short nightgown from her body, the cool air of the penthouse kissing her bare skin, making her nipples tighten even more.
In a fast, unbelievable move, he thrust deep inside her, his thick length stretching her wide, burying himself to the hilt in one searing plunge. The sudden fullness hit her like a lightning bolt, her walls clenching around him instinctively, slick with the arousal she’d been fighting all night.
“Fuck, Ben, please,” she cried out, her voice breaking on a sob of pleasure and pain, tears still streaking her cheeks as her body betrayed her completely. The emotions swirled-hatred for how he played her, love for the way he owned her, a deep ache for the connection she craved beyond this physical blaze.
His hands roamed her body again, greedy and teasing, fingers pinching her nipples until they throbbed, sending sparks of heat straight to her core. One hand slid up to grab her neck, tilting her face toward him in a possessive hold that made her breath catch. His grey eyes locked on hers, dark with hunger and something unspoken, deeper.
He kissed her immediately, urgent and hungry, devouring her mouth like a man starved. His tongue plunged in, claiming every inch, mirroring the way his length filled her from behind-deep, unapologetic, owning her in every filthy, perfect way. She
melted into it, moaning into his mouth, her hips rocking back against him despite the tears and heartbreak.
He was rough, always so rough, pounding into her with a force that matched her wildest desires, but she knew the truth: he was
a player, untrustworthy, his heart as guarded as a vault. Yet here he was, claiming her body like it was his right, his alone, and it tore her apart even as it pushed her toward the edge.
He stopped moving, just holding still inside her, his length pulsing hot and thick against her sensitive walls, and already the pressure built, coiling tight in her belly. Her walls fluttered around him, on the brink of shattering, the intensity overwhelming -waves of need crashing over the sorrow, making her gasp and tremble.
She couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t dare whisper how deeply she’d fallen, how his touch had cracked open her guarded heart.
“You feel damn good around my length, Betsy,” he coaxed, his voice a rough whisper that made her clit throb. “It’s like this is where I belong-buried deep in your tight pu**y, making you mine.” The words were dirty, possessive, designed to unravel
her, and they did, pulling a scream from her throat as her body begged for more.
“Fuck, stop it,” she gasped, the plea half-hearted, torn between pulling away and pulling him closer.
He pulled out immediately, the sudden emptiness leaving her aching, desperate, her body clenching around nothing. “You know, I’ve changed my mind,” he said, his tone teasing, edged with control.
“What?” Betsy whispered, her voice raw, turning her head to plead with wide eyes. “You can’t leave me like this, please,” she begged, the words tumbling out as her body screamed for release, emotions raw and exposed-fear of losing him mixing with
the fire he ignited.
She was doing exactly what he wanted: begging, surrendering. But he wanted more, needed it, because deep down, no matter how he tried to lie to himself, this woman had pulled something real from him. He wasn’t ready to admit it, to say the words aloud, but he was falling-hard-for her fire, her strength, the way she challenged him even as she yielded.
“Beg me to love you till death do us part,” he demanded, his breath hot on her skin. “Then I promise you, I’ll f*ck you senseless, draw out three insane orgasms from this sweet pu**y, and f*ck you straight to sleep.’
*Fuck, I want that, you idiot,’ she screamed, frustration and desire boiling over, her voice echoing in the vast room.
He chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating through her. “That’s it,” he breathed into her neck, not letting her turn, keeping
her trapped in this torturous position-vulnerable, exposed to the city below.
It was agony and ecstasy, her body screaming for him, every nerve alight with need. He knew how badly she wanted him, and he
used it, wielded her desire like a tool to bind her closer.
“Look at the city, Betsy,” he commanded, his hands still squeezing her breasts, thumbs circling her aching nipples. “Say it out loud, let the whole Carminton know that you belong only to me.”
Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She’s also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.