“Tonight, you’re mine. Your frustration,” he said, dragging his fingers free so I cried out, begging for him to fill me again—and he did. “Your orgasm. Your pleasure. And your shouts of need,” he told me, punctuating each desire with a jab of his fingers before he removed them to grip my hip and the wide head of his covered cock pressed against my hole. “Tonight, all of it is mine, Dylan.”
Good lord.