She doesn’t know what she’s in for, not yet. Not as I watch her laid out on the bed, flushed and breathless, already undone just from how I look at her. Her legs are parted slightly, not even from confidence but instinct. Her body knows who it belongs to.
I climb onto the bed, slow and deliberate, like a predator circling its prize. My hands slide up the backs of her thighs, firm and claiming, thumbs pressing into soft skin as I push her knees apart further. Her breath catches. She tries to close them again; half shy, half overwhelmed, but I growl low in my chest and force them wider.
“Don’t,” I say, voice sharp and deep as it rumbles from my throat. “Don’t ever hide from me. This is mine. All of it.”
She nods fast, eyes wide. But I’m not looking at her face anymore. I’m looking at the soaked mess between her thighs, glistening and perfect, waiting. My hands grip her hips like I could tear her in half just to bury my face deeper. She’s already shaking.
I lean in and don’t touch her yet. I breathe her in. That smell; sweet, sinful, entirely hers. I murmur into her skin, letting the warmth of my breath ghost across where she’s most sensitive.
“You’re going to break,” I whisper. “You’re going to fall apart so many times tonight, you won’t remember what it feels like to be whole.”
One long, unhurried stroke of my tongue from bottom to top, pressing flat and deep. She jolts, a strangled sound bursting from her lips. I smirk and do it again, slower this time, watching her body twitch beneath me like she’s already too much.
My tongue flicks at her clit; barely a touch, and her hips jump. I slap her thigh lightly and growl, “Keep still. You move, I make it worse.”
She whimpers. I drag her hips to the edge of the bed, wrap my arms around her thighs, and bury my face fully. No teasing now. No pacing.
Hard, wet, open-mouthed kisses to her folds, tongue circling her clit in tight spirals, then flattening again and again. She moans loud now, thighs trembling under my grip, hands fisting the sheets like she’s drowning and I’m the tide.
“Not even close,” I growl into her, lips slick with her. “You’ll know it’s too much when you beg me to stop and still come all over my tongue.”
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them instantly, and her entire body arches off the bed. My fingers fuck her slow but deep, knuckles pressing with every thrust, tongue not giving her a second to breathe. Her walls clench, she sobs, and I smile darkly against her.
She’s close. Too close. So I stop.
She cries out. A raw, broken sound. But I ignore it.
She does, barely able to lift her head. Her eyes are glassy, lips parted, chest heaving.
“No one else will ever see you like this,” I say, voice like iron. “No one will ever touch you. No one could. You’re mine. Ruined by my hands. Shattered by my mouth.”
I go back in and this time I take.
Three fingers, tongue relentless, and I do not let up. I suck her clit until her moans become screams. I curl my fingers until her legs kick and her hands fly to my hair like she’s trying to survive me. But I don’t slow down.
She comes hard; violently, her whole body convulsing around my mouth and hand, voice broken into sobs. I hold her down and keep going, tongue dragging through her overstimulation until she’s crying from it.
I shift her legs over my shoulders and bury myself deeper. She squirms, tries to push me away, but her strength is gone. Her body is weak, wrecked. Perfect.
“Take it,” I growl into her. “You said you could handle me. So handle it.”
Another orgasm tears through her. Then another. Each one breaking her further. Her voice is gone, throat raw, body limp in my hands. She’s not begging anymore because she can’t speak. She’s mine now, completely.
I pull back slowly. Look at her.
Flushed. Wet. Legs spread. Eyes glazed. No thought left in her head but me.
“Good girl,” I whisper, brushing my thumb gently along her thigh. “That’s it. That’s how I like you. Ruined. Used. Owned.”
And no one else will ever have a chance. Because no one could put her back together the way I just destroyed her.
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