[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 166: Petty Face r18

NOAH

The sudden halt left me reeling. My hole fluttered around him, trying to adjust, but he didn’t move.

Not a twitch. He just... stayed, breathing slow and controlled above me, the only sound his steady exhales and my own ragged, panicked ones.

That must be it, I thought, dazed. He’s all in. This is as deep as it goes. My mind clung to that hope like a lifeline. It’s over. He’s inside. That’s the worst of it.

I tried to breathe through it. Tried to relax. But the fullness was overwhelming, stretching me to the absolute limit, pressing against places I didn’t even know could feel pressure like this.

My cock throbbed in time with my heartbeat, pre-cum pooling on my stomach, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the thick, unyielding intrusion splitting me open.

Why wasn’t he moving?

Was something wrong?

Did I... do something wrong?

The silence stretched, unbearable. I could feel his cock twitch once, deep inside, and my hole clenched reflexively around him. He let out a low, rough sound, almost a growl, but still didn’t move.

I was about to ask, about to beg him to either move or pull out, when the pillow was suddenly ripped from my face.

Light flooded in. I blinked against it, disoriented, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"What the—!" I yelped, reaching blindly for the pillow. "Give it back!"

Cassian tossed it across the room without looking. His face hovered above mine, flushed, pupils blown so wide the blue was almost gone.

Sweat beaded at his temples, hair falling into his eyes. He looked wrecked. Affected. Like he was fighting just as hard as I was.

"I want to see your pretty face while I ruin you," he said, voice strained, almost hoarse.

My stomach flipped.

He looked... undone. The mask of cold control had cracked, and beneath it was raw hunger, need, something almost desperate. For me.

Before I could process it, he leaned down and kissed me, deep, consuming, swallowing the gasp that tore from my throat. His tongue slid against mine, hot and possessive, and I melted into it, hands flying to his shoulders, clinging.

While our mouths stayed locked, he pushed deeper.

One long, slow slide.

I broke the kiss with a choked cry, head falling back against the pillow. "Cassian—!"

More inches. Impossible inches. I felt him sinking deeper, stretching me beyond what I thought I could take.

My hole burned, fluttered, tried to resist and failed. He didn’t stop until he bottomed out completely, hips flush against my ass, balls pressed tight against me.

I was shaking. Full. So fucking full.

His mouth moved to my ear, breath scorching. "Relax."

I tried. God, I tried. Focused on breathing, slow inhales, shaky exhales, while he stayed buried to the hilt, letting me adjust.

He grunted low In his throat, a sound that vibrated through both of us.

"Fuck... you’re so tight."

The words sent a shiver down my spine. He sounded wrecked, voice rough, almost reverent. Like he was struggling too.

He pulled back slightly, just an inch, then pushed back in. Slow. Controlled. Testing.

Another low groan escaped him. "So fucking tight."

My body started to relax, just a fraction. The burn eased into something else, pressure, fullness, a strange, deep ache that felt dangerously close to pleasure.

He kept the rhythm slow, shallow thrusts, barely moving, letting me feel every ridge, every vein dragging against my walls. Each slide in pressed against that spot inside me, sending sparks up my spine.

I moaned, soft, broken, embarrassed by how needy it sounded.

He heard it.

His next thrust was a little harder, a little deeper. I cried out, legs trembling. The friction was overwhelming, too much, too good, too everything.

"Cassian—wait—!"

He didn’t wait.

He leaned forward, folding me nearly in half, my knees pushed toward my chest, ankles hooked behind his neck. The new angle drove him impossibly deeper, the head of his cock grinding right against my prostate with every thrust.

I moaned louder.

He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, the other gripping my throat, thumb pressing lightly against my pulse.

"Look at me," he growled.

I did.

His blue eyes were wild, pupils blown, sweat dripping from his brow. He looked feral. Beautiful. Terrifying.

And then he started fucking me in earnest.

Hard. Fast. Merciless.

The bed slammed against the wall with every thrust. My body jolted, cock bouncing against my stomach, leaking steadily. The angle was brutal, every stroke nailed my prostate, sending white-hot pleasure ripping through me.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Only feel.

The fullness. The stretch. The relentless pressure against that spot inside me.

My moans turned into cries, high, broken, embarrassing. I tried to hold them back, but I couldn’t. Every thrust punched another sound out of me.

Cassian’s grip on my throat tightened just enough to make my head spin. His other hand bruised my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

"You feel that?" he rasped with a wrecked voice. "That’s me owning you."

I came without warning, violent, sudden, untouched. Cum shot across my stomach, chest, even hitting my chin. My vision whited out, body convulsing, hole clamping down around him like a vice.

He didn’t stop.

He fucked me through it, harder, deeper, drawing out the orgasm until I was sobbing, oversensitive, trying to push him away.

"Cassian—stop—too much—!"

He grabbed my wrists again, pinned them above my head with bruising force.

"No."

He kept going, relentless, merciless, driving into me like he wanted to imprint himself inside my soul.

Another orgasm built, impossible, but undeniable. Dry this time, no cum left, just waves of blinding pleasure that made my whole body seize.

I blacked out for a second, consciousness flickering, came back gasping, tears streaming down my face.

Cassian groaned, low, guttural, and buried himself deep one last time. I felt him pulse inside me, hot spurts filling me, claiming me from the inside out.

He collapsed over me, breathing ragged, still buried to the hilt.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then he softened, only slightly, still inside me.

I thought it was over.

I was wrong.

I felt him twitch.

Felt him thicken again.

Inside me.

My eyes flew open.

"Wait—"

He lifted his head, looked down at me with dark, hungry eyes.

"Are you—"

Fully hard again.

Without ever pulling out.

He rolled us to the side, spooning me from behind, one arm banded around my chest, the other hooking under my knee, lifting my leg high. He slid back in, easier now, slick with cum and lube, but the angle was devastating, driving even deeper.

I whimpered.

He started thrusting again, slow at first, then harder, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.

I was going to die.

I was actually going to die.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want him to stop.