Diana’s POV
He lifts me off the ground like I’m nothing. One arm hooks under my thigh, the other pins my wrist above my head against the wall, and he drives his c**k into me so hard my skull taps the plaster.
The sound that rips out of me isn’t a moan. It’s a scream that I feel in my ribs, because the angle is punishing — gravity pulling me down onto his c**k while he thrusts up and the depth is staggering.
He’s hitting places inside me that the chair position didn’t reach.
“You had your fun,” he growls against my neck, slamming into me hard enough that a picture frame falls off the wall beside us and shatters on the floor. “You rode me and teased me and held a gun under my chin like I was your f*****g toy. Now I’m going to ruin you until you forget you ever thought you were in charge.
