“I’m not going to last.”
Sin shifted, changing the angle of his brutal thrusts—each one hitting my prostate with a sniper’s precision, like he was trying to break something open inside me. My heavy balls drew up tight, a raw ache coiling in my gut. Electricity surged through my veins, searing a path straight up my spine.
“I want you to come hands-free, baby,” he growled, drunk on the way I trembled. “Paint the tiles with your release. Show me what only I can do to you.”
“F-Fuck—” I choked out, the words a broken gasp, his command shredding what little control I had left.
I shattered. My cock throbbed, spilling thick, hot ropes of cum, splattering the tiles just like he told me to. My vision went white around the edges as I blacked out for a heartbeat,maybe two. My knees buckled underneath me, but his tattooed hand wrapped around me—rough, possessive, trembling with restraint—stroking the last drops from my slit as he buried himself even deeper, grinding into me with a desperation that bordered on madness.
“Oh shit, Theo—your ass is squeezing me so fucking tight—I—I can’t—” His voice broke, a shudder ripping through him. “Fuuuck.”
His hips stuttered, a strangled cry tore from his throat, and then I felt it. Heat flooding me, viscous and obscene. The moment he came inside me, something inside my chestsnapped—a wire pulled too tight for too long.
He collapsed forward, bracing himself above me, his breath ragged against my neck. I reveled in the sensation of his skin on mine. In his closeness. The feeling of safety I felt in his arms.
My breath caught in my throat as he pulled out, and I felt him dripping down my thighs. His cum. Sliding in thick, hot trails.
“Oh fuck, that’s—fuck, that’s hot.”
I looked back just in time to see him spread me open again, one hand on my hip, the other pulling my ass cheeks apart like he was inspecting something sacred. Or defiled.
“Sin—”
“I got you, baby.” His voice was almost reverent. Then hedropped to his knees again, and Igaspedas his tongue dragged across my oversensitive hole, licking his release from my skin like it was communion.
It was filthy.
It was unhinged.
It was perfect.
He savored me like I was his last meal, like he could suck the soul out of me and keep it on his tongue forever. Something inside me cracked—something fragile and already too worn—and Ilet it. I wanted it.
I wanted him to consume me until there was nothing left. I was falling for him. Even though I shouldn’t—couldn’t.
Instead of acknowledging it, I spun around and hauled him up so I could taste us on his tongue. I’d show him everything with my body that I could never say out loud.
When we came again—it was violent. Unrelenting. Cataclysmic.
I clenched hard around him, my body locking down as his name tore from my throat like prayer. His release followed, hot and heavy, spilling deep inside, claiming every inch of me. He collapsed on top of me, our bodies fused together by sweat, cum, and madness.
Even as the aftershocks tore through us, his hand curled around my throat, thumb stroking my jaw like he was grounding himself in the reality of me. His eyes—wild, glassy, obsessive—fixed on mine with the kind of hunger that didn’t fade with an orgasm. The kind that only grew.
“There’s no going back,” he rasped, eyes burning into me. “You’re mine now.”
I smiled, and buried my face in the crook of his neck and breathed him in. Broken and whole in the same breath, feeling like I’d collapse under the weight of it all.
His forehead rested against mine, our breath ragged, syncing. I dragged my fingers through his soaked hair, needing to touch him, toanchormyself in the aftermath. In him. No words. Just touch. Just presence. And let the silence wrap around us like a second skin.
When we finally pulled apart, we dried off slowly, our movements sluggish and sated. Plush towels absorbed the water, but not the damage. Not the history between us that clung like blood on silk.
Hours later, the jet dipped into the molten dusk of the Cayman Islands. Everything screamed wealth and decadence.The kind of place where secrets were currency and empires were buried with gold-plated shovels.
A sleek black car waited on the tarmac, idling like a beast ready to pounce.
Neither of us spoke on the drive. Sin wore mirrored sunglasses, shielding his eyes, but I could feel it—the crack forming in his foundation. The slow, unstoppable slide intofeelings. He hated it. Hefearedit. And still, he let it happen.
Because it wasme. And he thought this time was different.
