He looks up at it and smiles like a man laying his claim in daylight.
The pace turns urgent because the night still hunts us.
Because we don’t have time for softness.
Because this isn’t romance.
This is war with our mouths open.
He uses the restraint like a promise, angling deep until my voice breaks.
I turn my head to find him and he kisses the corner of my mouth.
I bite his lower lip, and he laughs once, low, then gives me exactly what I ask for without words.
“Please,” I whisper, wrecked.
“Say how,” he murmurs at my ear.
“Like that. Deeper. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t.
His thumb finds my clit and circles slow, worship that steals balance.
A sound tears out of me I try to swallow and cannot.
Thehumiliation of it is delicious. The loss of control. The way my body betrays me in a room that was meant to betray me.
He holds me through the fall, praise spilling against my skin. “Good girl. That’s it. Surrender.”
Surrender, but only to him.
Only because I chose him.
Only because I can end it with a single word and he knows it.
He follows with a rough breath and my name, mouth open on my shoulder, teeth careful.
Even when he’s ruthless, he’s controlled.
Even when he takes what I offer, he treats it like it matters.
He’s gentle with the come-down.
He kisses the back of my neck.
He frees my wrists and rubs the marks into warmth.
He slips the belt loose from my thighs, kisses each one like a benediction, then cradles my jaw and kisses me soft until the tremor is a memory.
He doesn’t say I’m safe.
He makes it true with his hands.
“Better?” he asks.
“Better,” I say, smiling, fingers in his hair to keep him close. “Now we finish it.”
