Every pulse of pleasure belongs to me.
This moment. My body. My choice.
I lift my hands, threading them through my hair, pulling just enough to feel the tug at my scalp as I tilt my head back, my nipples hardened by the cool air and the heat of his gaze—my heart fully open to him.
The only place we touch is where he fills me, deep and thick, and I savor the sensation— how intoxicating it feels to take what I need while giving all of myself to him at the same time.
“Della, …” His voice is hoarse, reverent, his hands clenching at my hips as I ride him harder, sinuous rolls of my hips forward and back. His jaw tightens as he watches me, his hands slide up my sides, his thumbs grazing my sensitive peaks, and I feel the weight of it—of him seeing me like this.
Our eyes lock—and neither of us looks away.
“Stay with me. Here,” he whispers.
“I’m here,” I breathe, and I am. Every nerve, every beat of my heart belongs to this man beneath me.
His hand cups one breast while the other finds my clit, circling with slow, deliberate pressure—his gaze pins mine, unblinking. As if he can hold my soul still with his eyes alone. The dual sensation steals my breath, tremors building fast and hard—tension winding tight, too tight.
His black, endless, deep eyes… are full of me.
And just like that first night—the night I chose him—I feel it again. He sees me. All of me.
The girl I was. The woman I became. The part of me I thought was gone forever.
He brought me back to life.
And then I shatter.
Pleasure detonates inside me—sudden, violent.
My body grips him, tight and desperate, as a moan tears from my throat, deep and raw, shaking in its first breath before climbing—higher, wilder—until it rips free as a cry I can’t hold back.
It’s not just sound.
It’s a piece of me breaking free.
My vision blurs with tears, but I don’t look away.
Because in this moment, I’m not just wrapped around him—I’m inside him. And he’s inside me, all of me.
No beginning. No end. Just one soul, burning.
Tears stream down my face, hot and relentless. From the overwhelming pleasure, and the weight of five years finally breaking loose. From the sheer force of feeling—the grief, the longing, the love I kept locked away, until it all collides in this moment—shaking me apart and putting me back together in a single heartbeat.
I can feel Dorian holding on through every tremor, taut and trembling beneath my hands, waiting for me.
And only when he feels the final, desperate wave of my release pulling me under, does he finally let go. He thrusts deep, spilling inside me with a low, guttural moan as the last of his strength breaks.
His arms lock around me, holding me as though he could anchor me to him forever.
“Yours,” he breathes, raw and certain, the word breaking something open inside me. “I am yours.”
I close my eyes, stitching together parts of me I thought were lost forever.
“Mine. You are mine.”He said the first time we made love and every time after. More like a vow than a claim.
This time it is another kind of vow. A surrender.
My fingers thread into his hair, clutching him closer, needing him closer.
