Ropes of hot cum flood her, coating her, claiming her. I groan, a guttural sound torn from the bottom of my soul, as I empty everything I have into her.
I hold her hips down.
I don’t let her move.
I stay buried inside her, throbbing, making sure every single drop stays exactly where it’s supposed to be.
"Mine," I pant against her skin.
She’s trembling beneath me, her aftershocks still rippling through her body, drawing the last of me out.
I keep her pinned to the velvet, my weight pressing her down.
I wait.
I wait until I’m soft, until I’m sure gravity has done its job.
Only then do I pull back, just enough to look at her face.
She looks wrecked. Beautifully, tragically ruined. Her lips are swollen, her hair is a disaster, and there’s a red mark on her neck starting to bloom where I bit her.
Ryder is going to see that mark.
The thought makes a dark, twisted satisfaction curl in my gut.
I pull out slowly.
A mix of my fluids and hers leaks out onto the dark velvet.
I trace the mess with my thumb, then drag it up over her stomach, painting her with the evidence of what we just did.
I stand up, adjusting my clothes and tucking my half-hard cock away. I don't offer her a tissue. I don't offer her an apology.
I want her to feel it. I want her to walk out of here feeling me dripping down her thighs. I want her to go home and know that she’s carrying a part of me.
"Get dressed," I say, grabbing my jacket from the floor.
She sits up, her hands shaking as she reaches for her panties.
I stop her.
I grab the scrap of lace from her hand and shove it into my pocket.
"You won't be needing these," I say. "I want easy access for later."
She blinks up at me. "Later?"
I lean down, bracing my hands on either side of her hips, trapping her one last time.
"You started a war tonight," I tell her, my voice dropping to a whisper that’s pure darkness. "And I don't stop fighting until I've conquered it all."
I brush a kiss over her forehead—a deceptive, tender gesture that is completely at odds with the way I just used her body.
"Let's go," I say, straightening up and holding out my hand. "You're coming home with me."
She stares at my hand.
She knows I’m the villain in this story.
