I come all over her ass, painting her skin in thick white streaks that drip down onto the desk below her.
She moans as I rub it into her skin, then collapses against the desk, spent and perfect.
I let her stay like that for a minute, catching her breath, while I clean her up with tissues from the desk drawer, my hands gentle.
I pull the panties from her mouth and kiss her, slow and deep. She tastes like sweat and victory.
"Did I ruin your hair?" I ask, brushing a strand from her cheek.
"I hope so." She grins, breathless and wild.
I straighten her dress and help her off the desk. She leans into me, her legs still a little shaky, and I wrap my arms around her.
"You okay?" I ask, my voice rough.
She nods, then leans her head on my shoulder, her breath warm against my throat. I wrap my arms around her, anchoring her to the world.
"I'm so proud of you," I whisper, mouth pressed to her hair. "You own this city now, princess. You own every fucking person in it."
She laughs, her body trembling. "I couldn't have done this without you."
I tilt her chin up, making her look at me. "You're wrong," I say, searching her eyes. "You can do anything, Brielle. You always could."
She considers this for a moment, then her lips curve in a slow, secret smile. "Maybe," she says. "But it means more now, because I did it with you."
This is what it means to belong to someone, to be claimed, to be truly loved.
I kiss her, soft and deep, and promise myself right then and there that I'll spend the rest of my life making sure she feels the same way, every goddamn day.
I'll never let go of her.
Not ever.
