He was a kind, caring man and for that she loved him. He tried to be equally gentle as a lover and that she appreciated – but while she appreciated the thought of him trying she enjoyed far, far more the way he failed at it.
He started softly, almost fearfully, caressing her like a brittle glass vase – time a few minutes and his caresses turned more aggressive, his soft breathing heavier – by the time he had gotten her naked – a process that had signed a death sentence for quite a few pieces of lingerie – he was barely able to form a full sentence. His hands now grabbed her more forcefully, his kiss were almost predatory and the very notion of him waiting for her consent to take her sounded risible.
Without as much as a warning he would turn her over, grab her firmly and get inside her with a satisfied animaleque grunt – the only reason why that rough, forceful penetration never hurt was that by then she was always completely drenched. He kept going, the only sound in the room her welping, his growling and the rithmic slapping of skin agains skin.
She could feel him contracting and drawing close to his orgasm, which when it came felt in some way even more satisfying than her own – he came inside, always insde, pressing his pelvis against her and making sure not a single drop was spilled. He then collapsed exhausted on her back – in that position they laid together for a few minutes, regaining their breath and enjoying each other’s touch. She could feel drops of him dripping out of her, so copious, so warm.
She dipped her fingers into what was left of it and smiled – truly, there was no more sincere compliment to her sex appeal that a woman could receive.
As his breathing became more regular he regained his composture. It was fascinating to look at him in the eyes while that happened. She had learned to pinpoint the exact moment when he came to his senses and she always made sure to reassure him with a kiss and a sweaty, warm hug that everything was allright, only to fall asleep together like that.
In the morning, she would make sure to stay in bed until he had left, always covered head to toe by the sheets.
As he left she would always stand up in front of their elegant full figure mirror, looking at the occasional bruise or sometimes a bitemark with something akin pride, savouring the thought of being in his greedy hands again the next night.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bnpm4y/can_a_beast_ever_really_be_tamed_mf_consensual
Now that was hot