My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 229

Chapter 229

Gianna

The shame was gone, replaced by a wild, desperate need to please the man who looked at my scars and instead of asking questions, he simply loved them.

“I want it,” I sobbed, my fingers digging into his hair, “Please, Raphael. I want it.”

He smiled, pulled his hand back for a split second before bringing his open palm forward.

Smack.

The sound of his hand hitting my wet, swollen skin was loud. I let out a choked gasp, my back arching off the bed. Before I could even catch my breath, he did it again, and then a third time, hitting me from below with an upward force that made my entire body shudder.

“You like that, don’t you?” he rasped, watching the skin turn a soft, angry pink.

He grabbed my hips and hauled me upward, before flipping me over as if I weighed nothing at all. He shoved my chest down into the pillows and yanked my hips high into the air, forcing me onto my hands and knees again.

He settled in behind me, his thighs brushing against mine. I felt the hot, rigid length of his cock press against my backside, a blunt reminder of exactly what was coming next.

He reached around, his fingers digging into my waist. I was wide open, exposed from behind.

He raised his hand and brought it down hard against my cheek, not the one on my face, but the curve of my backside.

I let out a low cry, my fingers bunching the sheets as I tried to hold my position. He didn’t wait for the heat to fade, he did it again.

Then he sank his hands into my flesh. He began to knead my ass, his fingers digging deep into the soft curves, squeezing and pulling as if he were trying to mold me.

“You have such a beautiful little round ass, Gianna,” he hissed, “It’s perfect.”

He leaned down lower, his chest pressing into my spine, “I want to sink my teeth into you.”

He pushed again, another half-inch sliding inside. The feeling of being full was overwhelming. I felt my inner muscles tensing, trying to fight the invasion. He waited, letting my body get used to the size of him, before he pushed a little deeper.

Little by little, he filled me. Each time he moved forward, I felt the skin around him pull taut, a tight sensation that made my hips tremble.

“Fuck,” he groaned, stopped when he was barely halfway in, his forehead resting against the back of my head, “f I force any more right now, I’m going to tear you. I’m going to hurt you, and I don’t want to break you… not yet.”

He began to move, an agonizing slide in and out. Every time he pulled back and pushed in again, I felt the friction of his skin against mine.

“Yes, God, yes,” I gasped, as I arched my back to try and pull him deeper, “You’re… you’re so…”

“I know,” he hissed.

The feeling of him moving inside me was a slow-motion storm. I felt every ridge of him, every pulse of his blood. I was stretched so wide I felt like I might split, but the sensation of being finally, truly full after five years of emptiness was a drug I couldn’t get enough of.