And then his tongue found my clit.
A jolt of pleasure shot through me, fierce and electric. He circled, stroked, teased, each motion precise, controlled, and impossibly erotic. His fingers slid inside me, moving in rhythm with his mouth. Pleasure coiled, tight and hot, rising like a tidal wave. His name fell from my lips in broken moans.
“Phoenix… oh myGod…”
The pressure built. My muscles tensed. My hips bucked. And then I shattered.
The orgasm tore through me in violent, glorious waves—so powerful, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, could only cry out as my body gave way beneath it.
When I opened my eyes, chest heaving, he was kneeling at my feet—his mouth wet with me, his chest rising with restraint, his eyes locked on mine like he was starving for more.
And in that look, I saw everything.
Possession. Devotion.
Love.
He hadn’t just touched my body. He’d claimed it.
I was his.
And there was no going back.
“Now, are you ready for me to show you what it’s like to be mine?” His voice was low, husky.
My brows lifted. “I thought you just did.”
“That’s nothing.”
“Then… yes.” Because it was the only appropriate response.
I was picked up from the floor as if I weighed ten pounds and carried to the bedroom. Not as a new bride so much, but as a caveman would carry his woman. I was tossed onto the bed in such a way that had me fighting to grab for him. Iwatched him take off his clothes, my naked body writhing over the covers. My fingers drifted between my thighs in a subconscious desperation for him, skimming through slick folds still drenched from the orgasm he’d given me on the floor. My breath hitched as I touched myself, as I drank in the sight of him undressing just for me.
Phoenix Steele wasn’t some gym-sculpted poster boy. He was a man—thick, broad, powerful. A body built from war and work and pain. A body that didn’t just take up space in a room butownedit. He was carved from heat and danger, and God help me, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Then he shoved down his boxers.
And I forgot how to breathe.
His cock sprang free—long, thick, veined and already hard.
My jaw slid open.
“It’s yours,” He said.
“Come here,” I breathed out.
He crawled on top of me, those massive arms pinning both sides of me.
His eyes locked on mine as he lowered onto me, his tip finding my opening.
“I love you, Rose. I love you.” The words were spoken in a way as if he were relieved to say it out loud. As if he needed to say it again, and again.
“I love—” I squeaked as he pushed inside me, stealing my words and knocking the breath from my lungs.
My head reared back, chin tilting up as a whine escaped my lips.
“That’s it.” He whispered into my ear. “Take it. It’s yours.”
