"Say it, Harper." He pressed just enough to tease, a promise of what was to come. "Tell me who you belong to."
She stared up at him, her chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths. He saw the moment the last of her walls crumbled into dust and the surrender in her gaze.
"Yours," she gasped. "I'm all yours."
The word snapped the last of his control.
He thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt in a single, hard stroke.
She cried out, her head falling back against the pillows. He was big, he knew that even as he stretched her tightly around his cock, filling her. But she took him, delight and pleasure the only expression on her face as she adjusted, her body clamping around him.
He set a punishing rhythm. There was no finesse, no technique. Just the raw, driving need to be as deep inside her as possible. So deep there was no separating them. He watched her face as he moved, memorizing the way her brow furrowed, the way her lips parted, the way she chanted his name like a prayer.
Every thrust was a statement.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place, guiding her up to meet his force. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper as her nails dug into the muscles of his back. The sting was grounding. Real.
Pressure built low in his stomach, a coiling tension that demanded release. She tightened around him, her breath hitching, the little sounds she made driving him wild.
"Let go," he rasped, surging into her harder. "Give it to me."
She shattered.
The spasms of her climax ripped through her, milking him, dragging him over the edge. He groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck as his own release slammed through him. His cock jerked and pulsed, and he poured himself into her, shaking with the force of it as he held nothing back.
For a long time, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.
He collapsed onto his elbows, careful not to crush her, though he didn't pull out. He couldn't. The thought of separating from her, even by inches, was painful. Physically painful. Pressing a kiss to the damp hair at her temple, he rolled to his back, taking her with him so they were still joined, still tangled as she sprawled over his chest.
He ran a hand down her arm, his thumb tracing the new, darkening mark on her shoulder. A possessive calm settled over him; the rage and jealousy of the evening burned away.
She was marked. Sated. His.
She murmured something sleepy and unintelligible, snuggling against him, her breath fanning out over his skin. He pulled the sheet up over them, his arm draped over her waist to hold her close.
Let the universe try to take her. Let the LMP try to argue rules and protocols. He'd claimed her the old way. The only way that mattered.
Sleep dragged at him, and he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. She was safe. She was here and tomorrow, everyone would know she belonged to him.
Harper's hand was going numb in Kirr's grip, but she didn't let go. It was the only real thing in this sterile administrative coffin—his callused palm, his heat, the silent promise that she wasn't alone. Every credit spent on the soothing lighting panels had been wasted. Nothing about this room was soothing.
Every time she shifted, her body reminded her of last night. The ache in her thighs and the sting of the marks he'd left on her neck and breasts, currently hidden beneath the high collar of her blouse. She felt claimed. Like she actually belonged somewhere, and for the first time in her life, she felt safe.
She squeezed Kirr's hand. He squeezed back, a silent reassurance that almost settled the frantic flutter in her chest. They had walked in here together. They had attended the function together. He had claimed her in front of half the station. That had to count for something. The universe wouldn't dangle happiness in front of her face just to yank it back… surely?
Duke Kaarigan sat on the other side of the table, flanked by two officials who looked like they swallowed rulebooks for breakfast.
The duke leaned forward, elbows on either side of a stack of dataflexes in front of him, and steepled his fingers. "Miss Sawyer. The board has reviewed your unauthorized departure from the Program signing office, as well as the subsequent station crisis and your part in it."
She held her breath. Beside her, Kirr was a statue, radiating the kind of low-level menace that would have sent most people running. Kaarigan didn't even blink.
"Given your pivotal role in resolving the power cascade and preventing catastrophic failure of the station's life support systems," Kaarigan continued, tapping a dataflex, "the board has decided to expunge the contract breach from your record. The 'flight risk' status has been lifted."
Air rushed out of Harper's lungs. "Thank you."
"You are fully approved for the Latharian Mate Program," Kaarigan said, offering a small, polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "We have processed your psychological profile and genetic markers through the matching algorithm this morning."
