His Dangerous Love On Ice Chapter 31: Olive's Pov

He stepped back between my legs, and I watched his hands go to his belt. Watched him unbuckle it slow, the leather sliding through the loops with this soft whisper sound that made my stomach clench. His eyes never left mine as he popped the button on his pants, dragged the zipper down slowly.

"You're staring," he said, voice rough.

"You're taking too long." My voice came out breathless, wrecked.

His hands paused. "Impatient?"

"Zane, please—"

"Please what?" He pushed his pants down just enough, and then he was there—thick and hard and already leaking at the tip, and I couldn't stop staring because fuck, he was big.

"Use your words, Muffin."

My face burned. "I want you inside me."

"Where?" His hand wrapped around himself, one slow stroke that made his jaw clench. "Be specific."

"Zane—"

"Say it." Another stroke, his thumb swiping over the head. "I want to hear you say exactly what you want."

"I want your cock inside me." The words tumbled out desperate and broken. "Please, I need—I need you to fuck me right now."

His eyes went black. "That's my girl."

He took one step towards me, grabbing my hips and dragged me to the very edge of the workbench, which felt so cold on my ass, and then I felt him—the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, sliding through my wetness, coating himself.

"I'm not using anything," he said, and there was a question in it.

"I'm on the pill." I grabbed his shoulders. "Please—"

"Good." He pressed in just slightly, just the tip stretching me. "Because I want to feel all of you this time."

Then he pushed in.

Slow. So fucking slow. An inch, maybe two, and I was already gasping hard, because he was thick, thicker than anything I'd ever taken, and I could feel myself stretching around him, feel the burn mixing with pleasure. Feeling how my lips parted with every single stretch.

"Breathe," he murmured, his forehead pressed to mine. "Just breathe for me, muffin."

I tried. Gulped air. But he kept pushing, kept feeding me more, inch by inch, and my nails were digging into his shoulders, my thighs shaking where they were wrapped around his waist.

"Look at me."

I forced my eyes open.

"You're doing so good." His thumb brushed my cheek. "Taking me so well. Just a little more."

He pushed deeper and I whimpered, and he stopped immediately.

"Too much?"

"No—" I shook my head frantically. "Don't stop, please don't stop—"

He kept going, slower now, gentle, until finally—finally—his hips pressed flush against mine and he was buried so deep I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except feel how full I was, how completely he was stretching me.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice wrecked. "Olive—fuck—you feel—"

He didn't finish the sentence. Just stayed there, letting me adjust, his hands rubbing soothing circles on my thighs while I shook against him.

And then I rolled my hips.

Just a little. Testing. Teasing. Feeling how he stretched me.

His grip tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Don't—" His voice cracked. "Don't do that unless you want me to lose control."

"Maybe I want that." I did it again, grinding down on him, and felt him twitch inside me.

Something in his expression snapped.

He pulled out—slow, dragging, every ridge of him sliding against my walls—until just the tip was inside. Then he slammed back in.

A screamed ripped out from my lips. I couldn't help it.

The sound that ripped out of my throat was terrifying as he hit something deep, something that sent sparks shooting up my spine, and my back arched, my head thrown back.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you. No one's around to stop us now."

He didn't wait. Just started moving, pulling out and driving back in with these deep, brutal thrusts that had the workbench rattling, had me gasping and moaning with every thrust.

"Zane—oh my god—"

"Look at you." His hand slid down to grip my ass, holding me in place while he fucked me. "Look at how well you're taking my cock. Like you were made for it."

I was already close. Embarrassingly close. Could feel it building low in my stomach, tightening with each thrust.

"You gonna come?" He thrust harder. "Already? I just got inside you and you're already falling apart."

"I can't help it—" I gasped as he hit that spot again. "You're so deep—"

"That's because this pussy was made for me." His other hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit. "Now come on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me."

He pressed down hard and I shattered, screaming his name, my whole body convulsing as pleasure crashed through me. But he didn't stop. Just kept fucking me through it.

His hands gripped unto my legs, raising them high as he dropped them on my shoulders and then he started pounding hard, his hips pushing in and out in a relentless manner and I just kept screaming, as he kept hitting that spot until I was crying, tears streaming down my face because it was too much, too good.

"Good girl." His voice was strained. Hoarse as he kept thrusting and I was shattering, my juices flowing down through his cock.

"But we're not done."

He pulled out suddenly and I whimpered at the loss, felt his cum and mine dripping down my thigh. But then he was flipping me around, big hands on my hips, bending me over the workbench until my breasts pressed against the cold metal.

"Spread your legs."

I did instantly, my hands scrambling for the smooth surface.

"Wider."

I spread them as far as they'd go and he kicked my feet apart even more, until I was completely open, completely exposed.

"Arch your back." His hand pressed down on my spine. "Show me that pretty ass."

I obeyed, and I felt his hand smooth over my ass, squeezing, spreading me open.

He whispered and suddenly, I felt something hot smacked against my ass, and a sharp scream escaped from my lips.

"Perfect."

His cock pressed against my entrance again, my juice making it felt so slick.

"Now stay just like that and let me fuck you the way you deserve."

And he did, he slammed in and I cried out, my fingers curling against the metal as he set a punishing pace. The angle was different like this—deeper, more intense—and I could feel him everywhere, could hear the slap of his hips against my ass, could hear how wet I was with each thrust.

"This what you wanted?" His voice was rough, commanding. "Wanted me to bend you over and fuck you like this?"

"Yes—fuck—yes—"

"Say you're mine."

"I'm yours—" I gasped as he hit that spot again. "I'm yours, Zane—"

"Damn right." His hand came down hard on my ass.