Let me feel you deep inside. Hmmm, fuck me Patrick, I love being your little slut.” Upon hearing Larissa whisper, ‘your little slut’, Patrick lost control, he flipped Larissa up and over onto her knees, he re-entered her with one deep thrust, his fingers bitting into the flesh of her hips as he drove repeatedly into her soaked slit. “Not a slut,” he growled into the valley where her slim neck met her quaking shoulder. “You’re a – oh fuck!” his back arched in pleasure, as he felt Larissa’s slim fingers between her thighs, teasing and playing with his shaft as he pressed into her. Patrick grasped a fist full of hair and pulled her around to face him, he stilled, hard cock buried to the hilt. His breath whispered across her lips as he bent closer, “You’re a fucking goddess, Larissa. Look at you, you’ve got me on my knees here, woman, worshiping you, fantasising for weeks about having you. Those sketches aren’t how I wish you to be, they are you.” Kissing her roughly, Patrick resumed his. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she echoed again quietly and turned on her heel walking back through the door letting it bang loudly in finality behind her and she moved into the kitchen and leaned onto the island both arms braced. She should have known he wouldn’t be dismissed that easily. An echoing, if quieter bang from the screen door told her he had no intension of giving up so easily. She wrapped her arms around her middle protectively. Oh he’d never lay a finger on her she knew but her heart, Ah God…her heart was another matter entirely. She should hate him for it, she knew, but this weakness for him was all her own making she thought bitterly. She had to end it, had to make him understand that she’d made her decision. It wasn’t him. Marshaling her will and throwing it about herself like a mantle she turned to face him. He forged ahead before she even had a chance to open her mouth. ‘I won’t stay away. That lame ass set of excuses you fed me means nothing,’ he said savagely stalking.
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