Her gaze softens, that familiar vulnerability creeping in. “East…”
“But I was wrong,” I push on, the truth crashing over me like a tidal wave. “He wasn’t telling me to stay away. When he said ‘take care of her,’ he was telling me to get closer. To be the one.”
“I spent so long pushing you away,” she whispers, her voice thick with the weight of unshed tears, each word laced with regret. “Thinking it was the only way to keep you safe. I never let myself even think about what I actually wanted.”
“What do you want, Darla?” I ask, my voice dropping to a low growl as I step closer, closing the distance between us, the tension prickling in the air.
“You,” she breathes, the word tumbling out like a surrender. “It’s always been you.”
That’s it. That’s the spark that ignites everything inside me. I crash into her, my mouth claiming hers with a fierce, almost brutal urgency. This isn’t a kiss; it’s a claiming. It’s seven years of guilt, of grief, of repressed, forbidden wanting, all exploding in a single, desperate moment. Clothes are a mere barrier, a useless obstacle against the hunger surging between us. Her hands find their way to my belt buckle, her fingers trembling with an anticipation that matches my own. I press her back against the wall, my hand tangling in her hair, gripping the soft strands, tilting her head back to give me better access.
I’m rockhard. My cock strains painfully against the denim, and the heat radiating from her body, the soft, yielding press of her hips against mine, sends a guttural sound ripping from my chest. My fingers dive for the waistband of her shorts, hooking my thumbs in and ripping the button free in one swift, violent motion. I shove them down, panties and all, a mess of fabric at her ankles. My own jeans feel like a prison, but her frantic hands are there, fumbling with my zipper, her touch a brand against my skin. I help her, shoving the denim down just far enough.
I lift her effortlessly, her back slamming against the cool drywall, and she clings to me, her legs wrapping around my waist, her bare skin searing against the rough denim of my jeans. Her pussy is hot and wet, a perfect, aching welcome against my stomach. I position the head of my cock at her entrance, slick with her desire, and with a low growl, I slam into her.
I swallow her raw, shocked scream that electrifies me. Her pussy clenches around me, hot and impossibly tight, and I’m already losing my mind. This is pure friction, pure need. Seven years of wanting her, of picturing this, of denying myself this single perfect thing. It’s all erupting in a series of brutal, frantic thrusts against the wall. I grip her ass, my fingers digging in deep, branding her flesh, marking her as mine. As she starts to unravel, her inner muscles pulse and grip my cock. The sight ofher completely undone drives me over the edge. With a guttural roar, I come, pumping myself empty inside her, my release a violent, shuddering thing.
We linger like that for a long minute, both of us panting, our bodies slick with sweat, the initial storm of desperation fading. But it’s not enough. That was a release, a frantic claiming of territory, but it wasn’t her. Not all of her. I need all of her.
I slowly lower her down my body, her legs trembling as they touch the ground. Meeting her wide and dazed gaze, we both understand—this isn’t over. Leaning in, my voice is a rough whisper against her ear. “The bedroom,” I say, urgency thrumming in every syllable. “Now.”
She backs toward the hallway and I follow, hands firm on her hips, steering her through the dimly lit hall. In the doorway I catch her mouth again, then guide her back and lay her gently on the bed, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her. In the soft glow of moonlight, her skin appears almost luminescent, accentuating the delicate curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts. Her eyes, dark and luminous, reflect a desire that ignites a fire within me. This moment is more than a physical connection; it’s a rediscovery, a sacred act of worship.
I take my time, peeling away the last remnants of her clothing, each layer falling to the floor like forgotten memories. My gaze roams over her, absorbing every inch. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I growl, my voice thick with lust and awe as I drink her in. My lips trace a path along her jawline, gliding down her neck until I reach the hollow of her throat. I flick my tongue there, savoring her salty sweetness, and she arches her back as a soft gasp escapes her lips.
Settling between her thighs, I feel her open up for me, like a silent invitation that sends a thrill racing through my veins. The scent of her arousal, musky and sweet, fills my head. I dip my head, my tongue tracing the slick, swollen folds of her pussy. Thesharp gasp she makes echoes in the room's stillness, her back arching off the bed. She tastes like honey and sin, intoxicating, and I lose myself in her, worshipping her with my mouth. My tongue flicks and strokes the hard, perfect pearl of her clit. I tease it, circling it, before drawing it into my mouth, sucking gently.
“East,” she whimpers, her fingers fisting in my hair, but she doesn’t pull me away. She arches, pushing herself more firmly against my mouth. I slide two fingers inside her, feeling her pussy clench around me, so tight and wet. Curling them, I hit that deep spot inside, and she cries a raw, keening sound out. I suck her clit harder, lapping at her, drinking her in as she shatters, my name spilling from her lips like a prayer. Every drop is swallowed, claiming every part of her.
She’s still trembling, a beautiful wreck in my bed, her skin glistening, when I move up to kiss her. But she halts me, placing her palms flat against my chest and pushing me back. It’s not a rejection; it’s a command. I let her assert her will, allowing her to push me down until I’m lying flat on the bed, her gaze fixed on me, fierce and wild.
She crawls up my body, her movements deliberate and seductive, her hair cascading around her face like a veil. She straddles my hips, the heat of her pussy pressing against my stomach, branding me with her need. “My turn,” she whispers, her voice thick with promise.
I’m so hard it hurts, my cock twitching, but I hold back. I watch, captivated, as she reaches down, her fingers wrapping around my shaft. The electric shock of her touch sends shivers down my spine. She guides me to her entrance, and with a slow, deliberate grind, she lowers herself onto me, taking my cock inch by agonizing inch.
Her gasp is a sharp, breathy sound as she claims all of me. I groan, my hands fisting the sheets, every muscle in my bodyclenching. Her inner walls are so tight, so hot, squeezing my cock with each small movement. A slow, hypnotic rhythm begins as she rides me. Now in charge, the sight of her above me—head thrown back, pleasure etched across her face—is the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
I reach up, my hands finding her hips, not to dominate but to steady her. My thumbs sink into the soft flesh, and she moans, riding me harder, faster. She’s a storm, a goddess, and I’m completely at her mercy. She finds her rhythm, and I watch her come undone, her body arching as a ragged cry escapes her throat. Seeing her break, knowing she’s claimed her own pleasure, sends me spiraling over the edge. I roar her name, my release crashing down like a wave, a violent surrender to her power.
She collapses onto my chest, a boneless weight, our bodies slick with sweat. The silence in the room has transformed, now filled with the heavy scent of sex and the erratic sound of our hearts beating in sync.
She’s still trembling, a beautiful wreck in my bed, her skin glistening with sweat and satisfaction as I lean down to kiss her. A lazy, sated smile curves her lips. “You missed a spot,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
I let out a low laugh; the sound rumbles deep in my chest. “Oh, I’m just getting started, princess.”
In one fluid motion, I flip us over, pinning her beneath me, and the sound of her surprised laughter rings in my ears like the sweetest melody. “You think messing with my spice rack was a good idea?” I growl playfully, my teeth grazing her neck, igniting a spark that sends shivers racing down her spine. “I told you my revenge would be meticulous.”
“Is this your revenge?” she gasps, her hips already rocking against mine, a tantalizing rhythm that makes it hard to focus on anything but the heat building between us.
“This is just the interrogation,” I murmur, my voice low and teasing as I lean closer, letting my breath ghost over her skin. I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my lips in a frantic drumbeat that drives me wild. I take my time, trailing kisses along her collarbone, savoring the way she arches into me, desperate for more.
Her laughter fades, replaced by a breathy anticipation that fills the air between us, thick and electric. I lean in closer, brushing my lips against hers, teasing just enough to keep her on edge. “You have no idea what’s coming, do you?”
Finally, tangled in the sheets, our bodies slick with sweat and desire, she looks up at me, her expression shifting to something serious, almost pleading. “East,” she whispers, urgency lacing her voice. “Now.”
In that moment, I understand exactly what she wants, and she’s right—it’s time to give her everything. The playful banter fades, replaced by a raw intensity. I enter her slowly, a deliberate, reverent glide that feels like coming home. I move within her, a slow, deep rhythm that is less about pleasure and more about connection. It’s a silent vow, a physical manifestation of our partnership. With every thrust, I’m showing her. You’re mine. You’re safe. I’m not leaving.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Darla,” I growl, my cock throbbing as I press deeper, filling her. “When I do, I want you to know that I’m claiming you as mine.”
