Novel Full Chapter 1159 Slideshow
Chapter 1159: Chapter 1159 Slideshow
To Ross, Sabrina was.
The flush on her cheeks, the faint bruises from his grip blooming like love marks on her skin, the way her chest rose and fell in deep, exhausted sleep—it all made her more beautiful than any pristine vision ever could.
This was his Sabrina: thoroughly taken, utterly surrendered, and radiant in her surrender.
A soft, possessive smile curved his lips as he slid closer on the bed.
Carefully, tenderly, he gathered her boneless form into his arms, pulling her against his broad chest.
She stirred faintly with a sleepy murmur, instinctively nestling into him even in unconsciousness.
Ross wrapped his strong arms around her tightly, one hand splayed across the small of her back, the other cradling the nape of her neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to her damp forehead.
He held her like that for a long while, listening to her steady breathing, feeling the lingering warmth of her body against his.
In the quiet aftermath, with dawn’s gentle light beginning to creep across the room, Ross felt something deeper than mere satisfaction settle in his chest—something fierce and protective, tender and absolute.
She was his now, in every possible way.
And as he tightened his embrace, breathing in the mingled scent of their shared passion, he silently promised that this was only the beginning of how completely he intended to love, claim, and cherish her.
***
Sabrina woke slowly, as if emerging from the deepest, most luxurious sleep of her life.
Sunlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, painting warm golden stripes across the rumpled sheets and her bare skin.
She stretched languidly, expecting the familiar ache of overexertion—the delicious soreness that should have lingered after the marathon of passion she and Ross had shared through the night.
But there was nothing. No tenderness between her thighs, no stiff muscles, no heavy exhaustion.
Instead, her body felt... perfect. Energized. Alive in a way that made her skin hum and her blood sing.
Every breath felt deeper, every small movement sent little sparks of pleasure skittering across her nerves.
She smiled to herself, puzzled and delighted, flexing her toes beneath the sheets and arching her back like a cat in sunlight.
Only then did she turn her head.
Ross was beside her, lying on his stomach, one arm flung possessively across her waist even in sleep.
His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and the strong lines of his back rose and fell in slow, even breaths.
The sheet had slipped low, revealing the sculpted curve of his hips and the faint red lines her nails had left hours earlier.
He looked peaceful, almost vulnerable—until his eyes suddenly opened, locking onto hers with instant, predatory awareness.
"You’re awake," he said, voice rough and low, thick with sleep and something far more dangerous.
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he shifted closer.
Before Sabrina could form a reply, he closed the distance and kissed her—deeply, unapologetically, full on the mouth.
His lips were warm, firm, tasting faintly of last night’s whiskey and pure male heat.
One large hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
"Mmmph—!" Sabrina’s muffled sound of surprise melted into a soft moan.
She meant to protest, to tease him about morning breath or needing coffee first, but the moment his tongue swept against hers, rational thought vanished.
Heat bloomed low in her belly, instant and overwhelming.
Her body responded before her mind could catch up—nipples tightening, thighs pressing together as slick arousal gathered between them.
Ross kissed like he did everything else: with complete, devastating skill, coaxing her mouth open wider, drawing soft whimpers from her throat.
Within seconds, the kiss turned hungry. Urgent.
Ross rolled halfway over her, the heavy weight of his body pressing her into the mattress in the most delicious way.
His free hand roamed—skimming down her neck, cupping one breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak until she arched into his touch.
Sabrina’s hands found his shoulders, nails digging in as she kissed him back just as fiercely, legs parting instinctively to cradle his hips.
He was already hard—impossibly hard—his thick length pressing hot and insistent against her inner thigh.
A low growl rumbled in his chest when he felt how wet she was, his fingers sliding down to confirm it with one slow, teasing stroke.
"Fuck, Sabrina," he muttered against her lips, voice gravel-rough. "You’re soaked already."
She could only gasp in response, hips bucking up to chase his touch.
There was no slow seduction this time, no drawn-out foreplay. Just raw, desperate need.
Ross shifted, guiding himself to her entrance, and thrust in with one smooth, powerful stroke that buried him to the hilt.
Sabrina cried out, back bowing off the bed as he filled her completely.
The stretch was exquisite, perfect, sending fireworks exploding behind her eyes.
He didn’t pause—immediately began moving with deep, hard strokes that rocked the headboard against the wall.
The room filled with the sounds of their bodies coming together: skin slapping skin, wet rhythmic friction, her breathless moans and his low grunts of pleasure.
They fucked like they were starving for each other, like the night before had only whetted their appetite rather than sated it.
Sabrina wrapped her legs high around his waist, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper.
Every thrust hit that perfect spot inside her, building pressure fast and relentless.
Her first orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over her without warning.
She clenched around him, crying his name as her body shook, a hot gush of release soaking them both.
Ross groaned, pace faltering for a second as he felt her squirt around him, but he didn’t stop—only drove harder, chasing her pleasure higher.
"Ahhhhhh..."
"Ohhhhhh..."
"Ughhhhh..."
Again and again, he pushed her over the edge. Sabrina lost count after the fourth—maybe fifth—orgasm, her voice hoarse, body trembling uncontrollably.
She became a fountain, squirting in helpless, pulsing waves each time he angled just right, the sheets beneath them growing drenched.