So he did.
He pounded into her with an intensity that bordered on violent. Changed positions without pulling out, rolled them so she was on top, then pushed her back against the headboard and drove up into her at an angle that made her scream his name.
He took her from behind, one hand wrapped around her throat, the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.
He bent her in half, pushing her legs back toward her chest, going so deep she couldn't do anything but take it.
Every position was a statement. Every thrust was an apology and a claim simultaneously.
Hours seemed to pass.
Sweat covered both of them. The bed was soaked. Eve had come at least four more times, each orgasm pulling a scream from somewhere deep in her chest.
And Dimitri still wasn't satisfied.
When he finally came....spilling inside her with a roar that felt primal, it was with the knowledge that no amount of fucking was going to be enough.
