I reach up with my free hand and wrap it around her throat.
Not squeezing—not yet—just holding.
Letting her feel the pressure.
The control.
The promise of what I could do if she wanted me to.
She shatters.
Her orgasm hits like a wave, her whole body convulsing, her cunt clenching around my fingers as she comes with a scream that's definitely going to require an explanation later.
I work her through it, gentling my tongue as the aftershocks roll through her, easing her down from the peak.
When she's boneless and gasping, I lower her carefully back to her feet.
She sways, gripping the counter for support, and I catch her around the waist before she can collapse.
"Good?" I ask against her ear.
"I can't feel my legs."
"Then I'm not done yet."
I spin her again, lifting her onto the counter, and step between her spread thighs.
She's still trembling from her orgasm, still flushed and dazed, but her hands find my belt with surprising coordination.
"Off," she demands, yanking at the buckle. "Now."
I help her, shoving my jeans and boxers down just far enough to free my cock.
It springs up between us, hard and aching and leaking at the tip.
Her eyes go wide. "Oh," she breathes. "That's... wow."
"We can go slow if you need?—"
"If you go slow, I will murder you."
Fair enough.
I grip her hips and pull her to the edge of the counter, lining myself up with her entrance.
She's so wet I can feel it against my cock, hot and slick and ready.
I press forward, just the tip, and we both groan.
"Dalla." I force myself to hold still, even though every instinct is screaming at me to thrust. "Look at me."
Her eyes meet mine.
Blue and hazy and so fucking beautiful it hurts.
"I need you to understand something." I push in another inch, and her breath catches. "After this, you're mine. Not just for now. Not just while I'm here.Mine. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
