I taste her slowly, letting her rock against my tongue, holding her thighs open as her hands fist in my hair. Her pussy tastes delicious, and it leaves me moaning.
I work her quickly, and I know she won’t last long. Wouldn’t want her to, anyway, because it means I can move on to something even better.
When she’s gasping, spent, I rise over her, pinning her wrists above her head. My cock presses against her, the contact a jolt through both of us. “Keep your eyes on me.” My command is a promise and a demand. She nods, pupils blown, lips parted.
I push inside her, slow, claiming every inch. She arches, back bowing, mouth falling open in a silent cry. I move in deep, steady thrusts, my hands still pinning hers to the sheets. She meets every push, her body greedy for more, her legs wrapping around my waist.
I watch her face as she falls apart: the way her brows knit, the pink blooming along her throat, the way her mouth shapes my name again and again. I can’t look away. I never want to. My own pleasure builds sharp and relentless, but I hold back, wanting to feel her clench around me, wanting to hear her beg before I let go.
I release her wrists, hands sliding to cup her jaw, to tangle in her hair, to hold her exactly where I want her. My thumb strokes her cheek. My mouth finds hers, kissing her hard, swallowing every moan.
“You’re mine,” I breathe into her mouth, voice ragged, half worship and half threat.
She nods, hands clutching my shoulders, nails scoring my back. “Yours. Always.”
I drive into her harder now, pace quickening, hips slamming into hers with a force that leaves us both trembling.
She breaks apart in my arms, legs tightening around me, walls clenching. Her eyes are wide and shining as she falls over the edge. The sound she makes is desperate, wild. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
I follow her, groaning her name as I spill inside her, forehead pressed to hers, breath mingling. I shudder, holding her tight, not wanting the moment to end.
We lie tangled, sweat cooling on our skin, her heart pounding in time with mine. I brush her hair back, kissing her forehead, cheeks, eyelids.
There is no violence left, only tenderness. I cannot remember the man I was before her, the man who thought love was a weakness.
She looks at me, dazed and spent, and I see it in her eyes: trust, need, something as dangerous as devotion. I roll onto my side, pulling her with me, her body flush against mine, arms tight around my waist.
For the first time, I don’t just want to possess her. I want to keep her safe, keep her close.
She runs her fingers along my scars, lips brushing each one. “You’re still angry?”
I close my eyes, letting her words sink in. “Not tonight.” I tilt her chin, meeting her gaze. “Tonight I have everything I want.”
She smiles, soft and secret, and tucks herself against my chest. I hold her as if I could anchor myself with the weight of her trust.
There are no chains left between us. Only need, only love, only the hard-earned peace that comes from surviving the storm together.
Tonight, she is mine, not as captive, but as the only thing that matters in the world.
I am hers.
She lies draped across my chest, the slow rise and fall of her breath synchronizing with mine. Sweat cools between us, her hair tangled over my heart. I trace idle patterns along her spine, memorizing the map of her—every freckle, every scar, the warmth of her skin. For a long time, neither of us speaks. There is nothing to say that won’t break the fragile quiet holding us together.
I watch her in the dim light, studying her face as if trying to commit it to memory. My thumb brushes the curve of her jaw, then trails down to her collarbone. She sighs, content, but her eyes are open, searching mine for something I can’t name.
Desire burns in me still, a low ember that never quite dies, but it’s tangled now with something sharper… fear.
I can’t help it. The thought claws at me, merciless:What if I lose her?The world feels suddenly precarious, fragile in a way I’ve never known. Power is nothing now, not compared to this. The empire, the men, the money. They’re meaningless if I wake one morning and she’s gone.
The admission is a bitter taste. I’ve built my life on being untouchable, on knowing nothing could be taken from me that I wasn’t ready to lose. Yet now, everything is at risk. I cannot help myself. I need her to know. I need her to feel the weight of it, even if it frightens her.
My voice is rough, unfamiliar in my own mouth.
“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” She blinks, wary, uncertain. I drag my hand through her hair, fist tightening gently at the roots. “You’ve made me weak,” I confess, every word scraped raw. “No one else has ever come close. No one else ever will.”
She hesitates, lips parting as if to answer, but I don’t let her. My grip tightens. “I would burn the world before letting you go, Sera.” I say it quietly, with the dangerous edge of a promise. “I’d destroy everything. Tear this city to the ground, leave nothing standing but you. Do you understand?”
The words hang between us, thick as smoke. Her pupils widen, breath hitching in her throat. I wait for her to pull away, to argue, to remind me that this isn’t love, that obsession and violence live too close together in me.
