“Not yet, swan.” I still her hips with my hands, stopping her movement even as she whimpers in frustration. “You’ve beenpretty reckless lately. Not only did you drive for hours high as a kite on caffeine and refusal, you also tried to butter-knife a foreign object out of your body in a motel bathroom. That’s two counts of self-endangerment in the last forty-eight hours alone. So you don’t come unless I say so.”
She glares, open and defiant even as her thighs tremble with the effort of staying poised. “You’re not my fucking parent?—”
“No,” I say, voice low and shot through with need, “I’m the guy who never lets you go until I get mine. And I’m not close yet.”
The look in her eyes is pure challenge, but also trust—the kind you can only give to someone you know will never really say no to you.
“Then you better fuck me harder, Bones,” she spits. “Because I’m about to come whether you like it or not.”
Game on.
I flip her, rolling her beneath me so fast the mattress squeaks in protest. I pin her wrists to the bed and slam into her so hard she gasps. Her eyes roll and her mouth drops open, stunned. I fuck her like she’s the only thing keeping me alive and I need her to remember it. My hips slam into her again and again, the slick heat between us obscene and perfect.
She claws at my shoulders, desperate, her whole body arching to meet every thrust. “Bones—please. Please, I’m so?—”
“You don’t come until I say,” I growl, squeezing her wrists together above her head. I lean in and bite her neck just hard enough to leave a mark.
“Please—”
“Beg me.”
“Please, Bones. Please let me come. I need it so bad?—”
My whole body is shaking from the effort of holding back. I want so fucking badly to let her come, to watch her unravel for me, but the will to dominate is stronger. Maybe it’s petty, maybe it’s something feral in my DNA, but I need her to know who owns every orgasm in her body. Especially after what she tried to do to herself—cutting at the tracker, walking through dangerous neighborhoods like she had a death wish.
She’s so fucking reckless. Always has been. And I don’t want to change that. Don’t want to tame it. I just want her to understand that her recklessness belongs tomenow. That if she’s going to be wild and chaotic and impossible, she’s going to do it with me right fucking there.
I let go of her wrists and grab her ass with both hands, anchoring her in place while I piston in and out, each thrust drawing a broken moan from the back of her throat. Her head twists on the pillow, jaw clenched, teeth bared. I drive in deeper, again and again, and the pressure is blinding.
Her nails rake my forearms, my chest, anything she can reach. I want every scratch and bruise she leaves. I want the world to see them and know I’m hers as much as she belongs to me.
“You want to come, swan?” I lean forward and grunt the words, right in her ear.
She nods, breathless, eyes wild. “Yes. Please. I’ll do anything?—”
“Then say you’re mine,” I growl, one hand locking around her throat so she can’t look away from me. “Say it and make sure I fucking believe it. Then I’ll let you finish.”
A deep shudder runs through her and she doesn’t fight the grip, just stares me down, eyes almost black. “I’m yours, Bones.Yours.All of me. Always.”
A rush like nothing I’ve ever felt, this combination of power and worship and complete surrender. I hold her gaze, my hand still on her neck, then I thumb her clit hard and fast. She detonates. Body spasming, legs locked around me, the aftershocks making her whole body quake. Her pussy clamps down so tight it damn near milks me dry and I can’t hold back any longer—I slam into her one last time and empty myself, hips stuttering as I fill her up.
The sound she makes is pure animal. Mine almost matches it.
For a minute we just stay like that, neither of us moving except to breathe. Our bodies are sticky, tangled, drenched in sweat. I want to stay inside her forever. But eventually, I slide out and collapse beside her, breathing hard.
She laughs, a ragged thing that’s more exhale than anything. “You’re such a bastard,” she rasps, voice raw.
“You listing your favorite things about me, swan?”
“Something like that.” Emma’s voice is still breathless as she rolls toward me. “Let me see . . . Right now, number one has to be how smug you look when you get your way. Number two is . . .”
She trails off, rolling onto her stomach, arms folded beneath her head. “Number two is the way you still call me swan even when you’re pissed at me.”
I want to tell her that it’s not even a conscious thing. That somewhere along the way, her name and that word fusedtogether in my brain and now I can’t untangle them. That when I say swan, what I mean isthe only person on this earth who matters.
Instead, I reach out and run my hand down the line of her spine, tracing every small vertebra, every scar and fading bruise—not all from me, career dancing is some serious business. “Number three better not be something dumb like my perfect dick game,” I say, my hand coming to rest on the globe of her ass.
She snorts. “That thing you wield is in a league of its own.”
