“Breathe,” he said. Low. Controlled.
I tried.
His hips pressed forward. My throat opened for him—just barely. Just enough. The burn was sharp. Tears welled. Drool slid from the corner of my lips.
He didn’t praise me. Didn’t groan. He held still.
Deep.
And I held him.
The heat of his breath hit the crown of my head. His hand tightened. My scalp tingled under the pressure.
He pulled back slowly—just far enough for air.
“Again.”
I opened wider. Took him deeper. My throat fought. My eyes stung. My fingers dug into my thighs, nails biting skin. But I didn't stop. Wolfe didn't fuck for praise.
He fucked for possession.
And I needed to be owned.
His other hand wrapped lightly around my throat. Not choking. Not yet. Just there. A reminder. Of who held my air.
He pushed in deeper. My nose touched his skin. My throat spasmed. He didn’t flinch. I choked—soft, quiet, beautiful. His cock twitched. His breath caught. Still, he didn't come. This wasn't about him. It was about me breaking, bleeding obedience into the spaces between breath and silence. He pulled back again. My lips red. Raw. My chin slick.
"Keep it open," he said.
And I did. Pain was part of worship. Worship was survival. He didn’t speak. Didn’t tell me I was good. Didn’t ask if I could take it. He just held my head still and fucked into my mouth like it was owed to him.
My knees dug harder into the floor with each thrust. The ache had long since set in, but the pain wasn’t a deterrent. It was a direction.
He didn’t hold my hair. He held my skull. One hand curled tight against the base of my neck. The other braced against his thigh.
He moved like a rhythm carved into marble?—
Deep.
Hard.
Relentless.
Every thrust stole my breath. And I let him take it. My eyes blurred. My jaw throbbed.
Saliva dripped from my chin to my chest. The wet slap of his cock against the back of my throat filled the room.
Still, he said nothing.
Because this wasn’t about words. This was about silence. And Wolfe had always known how to weaponize it.
He angled his hips, changing the depth. My shoulders jolted forward. My stomach tightened. I gagged around him. But I didn’t pull away.
My nails curled into my thighs. My eyes locked on his abdomen. His breath was shallow now. His pace brutal.
My body shook. Not from pain. From need.
He held himself deeper than before.
