But that ink—the Serpents’ mark—is the thing that gets me every time. She might say she’s done with that crew, with all of them, but it’s part of her now, threaded into every line of that tattoo. She’d probably lose her mind if she knew how many times it’s found its way into my dreams.
Then, without a word, she climbs onto the bed, moving over me with a confidence that’s almost brutal. She straddles my hips, her skin slick and hot, fingers wrapping around my cock like she owns it. She lifts herself, drawing out the moment just long enough to drive me mad, before sinking down in one slow, agonizing glide.
And I’m lost.
My thoughts scatter, my breath catching as she settles in. I mutter a curse, rough and broken, barely holding it together.
Every inch of her is like molten velvet. It’s like being dragged under a warm wave, stars blurring above me, wrapped in heat and chaos.
Her moan—a low, dangerous thing—vibrates through my chest as her hands splay across me, her body tightening, pulling me in deeper. I fist the sheets, forcing myself not to take control, not to ruin the rhythm she’s claiming.
“Damn it, love,” I groan, voice rough, barely holding on. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”
And what a fucking way to go. It beats any other.
Each rise and fall of her hips sends a jolt of pleasure through me, my breath coming in ragged gasps. She sets a rhythm, fasterthan what I did to her, but slow nonetheless. It’s driving me mad.
“Arms above your head, Zayan,” she murmurs, her voice low and husky.
I comply, gripping the headboard with white-knuckled restraint, the grin on her face making me want to turn the tables. But she leans in, her breath hot against my ear.
“Look at you,” she purrs, satisfaction lacing her voice. “So obedient. So lovely... I’d reward you, but… not until you’re begging for it.”
Hell.
The old me would’ve been dead set on making her swallow every word—might’ve even made her choke on my dick just to show her who’s in charge. But that bastard didn’t know the way her body feels when she tightens up like that.
Power does things to her—makes her come alive, and therefore it does things to me, too. I’ll be whatever she wants, play whatever role gets her to feel that way again.
Her hips start to move faster, her rhythm taking over. The slick sounds of our bodies moving together fill the room, mingling with our ragged breaths. The bed creaks in protest, the waves hammer the hull, but none of it matters. All I hear, all I feel, is her.
She cries out, raw and wild, like a damn siren bent on wrecking me, her voice filling every corner of the cabin and carving its way straight into my chest.
“Beg for it, Zayan,” she gasps, need laced through every word. “I want to hear you beg.”
I don’t even think. Words tumble out, raw and unguarded. “Gypsy, please—let me come. Let me come in that sweet pussy of yours.”
And damn, she loves it.
Her eyes flash with a wild satisfaction, the kind that makes her eyebrows pinch together and her moans pitch a little higher.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathes, bouncing on me faster.
But I don’t know how much longer I can take it. My entire body is taut with the effort of holding back. I can feel her tightening around me, pulsating and squeezing. It’s as much of a bliss as it is torture.
“Gypsy…” I groan, almost guttural. “I can’t… damn it, I can’t hold it.”
She grins, pace quickening, eyes fierce. “Then don’t,” she orders, her gaze locked onto mine, a dark command. “Come for me, Zayan. Comewithme.”
And that’s it. The last fraying thread snaps. Pleasure surges through me, a fierce, unstoppable wave. Her body pulls me in, and I shudder, muscles coiling, everything unraveling, her name on my lips. I spill myself inside her, finding her body with my hands and gripping her hips.
She breaks right there with me, her whole body shuddering, gasping like she’s forgotten how to breathe.
Finally, she collapses against me, her heartbeat hammering like a drum against my chest. I catch my breath, pulling her close, letting my fingers tangle in her hair.
“That,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple, “felt like tasting the sunrise.”
She laughs, soft and breathless, glancing up at me with a sly smile.
