I nod, swallowing hard.
“Good,” he growls. “You’re mine now. You belong to me. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I breathe. “I belong to you.”
His eyes lock on mine as he presses inside.
Slow. Careful. Stretching me inch by inch. My breath stutters. The burn melts into pleasure. I’m slick, open, sensitive in a way that feels electric.
He pushes deeper. I gasp. My hands clutch at the sheets.
He groans, buried to the hilt, still and pulsing inside me. “Fuck, you feel good.”
Then he starts to move.
Measured at first. Deep thrusts that make me feel every inch of him. He watches me like he’s studying the exact shape of my pleasure. His hips shift, angling, then he hits something that makes me cry out.
“There,” he says, darkly satisfied. “Right there.”
He hits it again. Harder.
I arch, helpless.
“Please,” I gasp. “Don’t stop.”
He leans down, bracing on one arm, the other threading into my hair. His mouth grazes my ear.
“I’m not stopping,” he murmurs, “not until you’re screaming my name.”
The next thrust is sharp, deep, perfect. I cry out again.
His hand slides beneath me, lifting my hips. His rhythm shifts. Faster, rougher, pushing me higher.
“Look at me,” he says.
I force my eyes open. His are wild. Devouring. Like I belong to him and he’s only just now allowing himself to have me.
“I want to see you come again,” he says, voice low and rough. “On my cock this time.”
His pace builds, dragging me higher with every thrust. Pleasure gathers, tight and aching.
“Kane—”
“Come for me,” he growls, and the command shatters me.
I break with a scream, convulsing around him. My body locks down, fire in my veins. He thrusts through it, driving me deeper into the waves, then stills with a deep groan. I feel him spill inside me, hot and sharp and endless.
We collapse together, a tangle of sweat and shaking limbs.
He pulls out gently, then gathers me close, cradling me against his chest. His lips find my shoulder. A kiss, barely there.
“You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick.
I nod, still trembling.
He pulls the blankets up around us, settling me tighter against him. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear. A slow, grounding drum.
“Sleep,” he says. “We’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.”
