The world spins for a second before I find myself sitting upright, straddling his massive thighs. The shift in gravity makes my head swim. Locke lays flat against the dark sheets beneath me, looking like a dark god carved from bronze and ink, his broad chest rising and falling in heavy, labored heaves.
"Take control, baby," he says, his hands sliding up to grip my hips, his strong fingers pressing firm into my skin. "Show me what you need, how you need it.”
My breath catches in my throat. I look down at him, at the hair plastered to his forehead, the fierce devotion burning in his wolf eyes, and the heavy length of his c**k resting against my center, slick and pulsing.
The sheer power in his frame is terrifying to most people, but sitting over him like this, feeling his hands steadying
