Eyes flutter.
I don’t stop.
“You wore all those faces to break me.” My fingers press against his chest, just above his heart. “But I think you broke yourself, too.”
He doesn’t open his eyes but he hears me.
I know he does.
His next breath isn’t soft. It’s shaky and his hand on my hip tightens like he’s afraid of what I’ll say next.
So I whisper it into the space between us like a spell. “If I belong to you…Then you belong to me too. No masks. No roles. Just you.”
He still hasn’t opened his eyes but I feel a change.
The breath that catches.
The muscles that tighten just beneath the skin.
The stillness that isn’t peace—it’s restraint.
He’s awake.
Fully but he’s letting me speak first.
Letting me touch first and maybe that’s the biggest surrender of all.
I shift, slow and deliberately, swinging a leg over his hips until I’m straddling him.
My body hums from the ache—but I don’t care.
Not after everything we’ve done.
Not after everything I’ve survived inside him.
He swallows.
His jaw flexes.
Still silent. Still. Still his.
My palms press to his chest, dragging down over the flat plane of his stomach. His skin jumps beneath my touch.
I smile. “You’re mine too,” I whisper again, slower this time.
Let it sink into his skin. Letting it cut. His cock is already hard beneath me, pressed against the slick heat between my thighs but I don’t move. I just lean down and kiss his throat.
Soft. Possessive. Fucking earned.
He finally speaks—voice hoarse. “You think you can handle me without the masks?”
I sit back.
Look down at him.
Tilt my head.
“I already did.”
