Starting slow, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in, letting me adjust. But I don't want slow. I don't want gentle. I want him to break me apart and put me back together.
"More," I beg. "Knox, please, I need more — "
"Yeah?" His hips snap forward, harder, and I cry out. "Need me to fuck you like I mean it?"
"Yes — "
He stops holding back.
The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, a steady rhythm that everyone downstairs can probably hear. I'm making sounds I've never made before — high and desperate and completely beyond my control. He's hitting that spot inside me with every stroke, building something unbearable in my gut.
"That's it," he growls, pulling me upright so my back is against his chest, changing the angle so he goes even deeper. "Let everyone hear you. Let them know who you belong to."
One hand wraps around my throat. Not squeezing, just holding, fingers pressing against my pulse. The other wraps around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
"Gonna come for me?" His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. "Gonna show me how good I make you feel?"
"Knox — I can't — it's too much — "
"You can. You will." He bites down on my shoulder, hard, and I shatter.
I come harder than I ever have in my life, spilling over his fist, clenching around him, sobbing his name into the dark room. The orgasm goes on forever, wave after wave, until I'm shaking and boneless and completely wrung out.
"Fuck, yes, so good — " He thrusts once, twice more, and then he's following me over, burying himself deep and filling me with heat. His teeth sink deeper into my shoulder, hard enough to break skin, hard enough that I know it'll scar.
Marking me. Claiming me. Making me his in a way that can't be undone.
We collapse onto the bed, him still inside me, both of us panting. He presses kisses to the bite mark, gentle now, tongue soothing over the sting.
"Mine," he murmurs against my skin.
"Yours," I agree. I'm already half-asleep, floating somewhere outside my body.
"Stay."
"Wasn't planning on moving ever again."
He laughs, soft and rumbling, and pulls out carefully. I whimper at the loss — I feel empty, hollow, like something essential has been removed.
"Shh, I've got you." His voice is tender in a way that makes my chest ache. "Let me clean you up."
He does, with a warm cloth and surprisingly gentle hands. He wipes away the mess, checks the bite mark on my shoulder, presses kisses to every bruise he made. Then he's back, pulling me against his chest, arranging us so my head is on his shoulder and his arms are wrapped around me.
I've never felt safer in my life.
"Knox?"
"Yeah, sunshine?"
The nickname makes me smile, sleepy and stupid. "We're doing that again, right?"
Another laugh, rumbling through his chest into mine. "Give me twenty minutes."
"Twenty — " I lift my head to look at him, sure I've misheard. "Seriously?"
"Shifter stamina." He grins, eyes flashing gold in the dim light. "Hope you don't have plans tomorrow."
"I work at nine."
