“Isla,” I warn, clinging to the last threads of self-discipline.
She ignores me, her pussy so tight and wet, her breasts grazing my chest, her nails carving ownership into my skin.
I can’t stop it.Cristo. I can’t control it.
I come inside her with a guttural growl, every thrust brutal, each slide home a fix I can’t quit chasing.
The pleasure tears through me in relentless waves dragged from the marrow of my bones, until I’m wrung dry and thrumming from release.
I collapse against her. Bury my face in her neck. Close my eyes.
There’s a beat in time—just one—where I allow myself to bask in the fucking transcendence.
Right before regret sucker punches me in the gut.
She didn’t come.
Out of all the ways I’ve let her down, I never imagined I’d actually use her the way I’d threatened.
I inch back, my cock falling from her heat, the evidence of my lacking restraint coursing down her thighs.
I won’t fail her in this, too.
I slide a hand between her legs, my fingers instantly coated in the mess we’ve made.
“Raffael, stop.” She grabs my wrist. “It’s okay.”
I stiffen, my face remaining buried in her neck while shame crawls up my spine. “I finish what I start, Isla.”
“Then consider your task accomplished,” she whispers.
I pull back, meeting her eyes.
“I enjoyed it.” Heat blooms in her cheeks.
I fight not to sneer at the placation. “Mereenjoymentisn’t the end goal when I fuck someone.”
She flinches. “Then consider your track record intact. I came,embarrassinglyfast, the second you were inside me.”
Her admission knocks the air from my lungs, cutting straight through the shame and replacing it with something far more destructive.
Remembrance.
I replay it. The first thrust. The way she stilled. Froze. Pulsed.
I’d thought she was in pain. That she needed time to adjust.
Instead, my gorgeous girl was coming all over my cock.
I step back, raking a hand through my hair as the claws of madness sink deeper.
Knowing she shattered that quickly—that her body welcomed mine so perfectly—it doesn’t soothe me. It fucking wrecks me. It feeds the hunger burning through my veins. Makes me want to take her again. Harder. Longer. Until she’s embedded in my tarnished soul.
And that’s the biggest problem.
Because infatuation is a weakness. Desire is a leash. And I’m the one person Isla Cross can’t afford to be bound to.
Jesus Christ.