50 Shades of Drake 3 and 4

Torn: Chapter Fifty-Seven

    Aubrey paused his strokes and reached over to grab a small remote from the nightstand near his side of the bed. While looking down at Destiny, he aimed the remote control over one shoulder and pressed one of the buttons. Soft music started playing. One song ended and another began. The song was the Flume remix of Collarbone's "Turning." He pressed another button, then reached across the bed to set down the remote.

    Her hips moved along with his, and the soreness she felt melted away as he pushed in and out of her. She raised her head off of the bed and caught his bottom lip between her teeth. She sucked on it and felt butterflies in her stomach when he groaned into her mouth. Her thighs closed around him and she dragged her fingernails down his back.

    "I thought you didn't let fuckboys fuck you," he taunted.

    "Throwing my own words in my face?"

    He grinned boyishly. "Maybe a little bit."

    Remembering Lawrence's earlier words, she said, "Rules are meant to be broken and distorted."

    Approval flashed in his eyes, and that was all she needed.

    She shifted and rolled over so that she was on top of him.

    His hands immediately went to her waist.

    She grabbed his hands and leaned forward to position his arms above his head while moving on top of him. She kissed him hard on the mouth while holding onto both of his wrists and writhing on top of him. Her muscles clenched around him, and she felt him jump inside of her a little. With a knowing smile, she moved her kisses to his cheek and sucked on his earlobe. She felt him twitching inside of her again. "Oh, you like that?" she asked him.

    "Mmm."

    She licked and sucked on his earlobe while slowly riding him. I don't know what it is...I don't know if it's the talk I had with Lawrence and Patty, or the fun I had with the namecalling...but for some reason, I feel so incredibly powerful right now. It's not even just a feeling of power. I feel...liberated. Unable to resist the urge to tease him, she said into his ear, "Is the fuckboy letting his woman do all of the work for him?"

    He turned his head and stared at her. "I'm trying to be gentle with you. I was rough with you last night. I hurt you."

    His affectionate words tore through some of her bravado. "You said you were going to show me why fuckboys are fuckboys."

    "And then I remembered that I nearly split you in half last night," he countered.

    "I want you to show me," she said stubbornly, still holding his hands above his head.

    "Can I have my hands back please?" he asked her.

    She shook her head slowly. "You're going to have to show me without your hands."

    "You don't think I can?"

    She shrugged with one shoulder.

    Maintaining eye contact with her, he started to gyrate his hips. He started off slow, but then gained a quicker, steadier pace. Gradually, his thrusts became harder, deeper, and faster.

    She bounced on him, trying to keep her grip steady on his wrists. But he felt too good, bucking beneath her like a wild, golden stallion. She cried out while slamming back down on him. When she wasn't shouting to the ceiling, her mouth remained open in a silent scream while he thrust in and out of her. Her grip on his wrists started to slip. She fought to hold onto him, but there were other parts of him that she wanted to touch. She released his wrists and reached behind her while riding him.