He doesn't wait for me to finish begging.
One second I'm gasping "Bedroom, now," the next he's got me scooped up, thighs locked around his waist, his big hands gripping my ass so hard I know I'll have fingerprints tomorrow. He storms down the hall, mouth devouring mine, teeth nipping my bottom lip until I taste copper. The bedroom door slams against the wall hard enough to rattle the frame. He throws meonto the mattress like he can't stand another second without being inside me.
I bounce once. He follows, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand while the other rips his tank over his head. My tee gets shoved up and torn off in the same motion. His sweats hit the floor. My panties don't even get dragged down all the way; he just hooks them to the side and yanks them off in a quick snap of fabric.
Naked. Sweaty. Starving.
He looms over me, chest heaving, that jagged scar right in my face. I reach for it but he catches my wrist, slams it back down beside my head.
"Mine," he growls, voice so low it vibrates through my bones. "Every fucking inch of you. Been dreaming about burying my cock in this tight little pussy for two goddamn months. You think I'm gonna be gentle now?"
I arch up, trying to get friction. "Don't you dare be gentle. Fuck me like you own me."
His eyes flash dark. "That's right. I do own you." He notches himself at my entrance, rubs the head through my slick folds once, twice, teasing. "This cunt? Mine. These tits? Mine. This mouth that screams my name? Fucking mine."
He thrusts in hard. No warning. No slow slide. One brutal snap of his hips and he's balls-deep, stretching me so wide I cry out sharp and needy. "Fuck yes," he hisses, holding still for a second so I feel every thick inch throbbing inside me. "Feel that? That's me claiming what's always been mine. You were made for this cock, Savannah. Say it."
"Yours," I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. "All yours. Fuck me like you mean it."
He pulls out almost all the way, slams back in so hard the headboard cracks against the wall. The bed groans. I scream his name. He doesn't let up. Thrust after punishing thrust, hips snapping, balls slapping my ass with every stroke. Sweat drips from his forehead onto my chest. His free hand wraps around my throat, not tight, just possessive, thumb pressing under my jaw so I have to look at him.
"Look at me while I fuck you raw," he orders. "Watch who you belong to. Watch who fills this greedy pussy up."
I can't look away. His eyes are feral, jaw clenched, scar stark against flushed skin. I clench around him on every downstroke, milking him. He curses, thrusts harder.
"Louder, baby. Scream for me. Let every fucker in this neighborhood know whose cock is wrecking you."
"Lucky! Fuck, Lucky… yes!"
He releases my wrists, grabs both thighs, shoves them back toward my chest. The new angle lets him go impossibly deeper. I feel him in my stomach. My eyes roll back.
"That's it," he growls. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. You're gonna come all over my cock and then you're gonna take my load. Gonna fill you so full it leaks out for days."
Tears prick my eyes from how good it feels, how full, how owned. "Please...come inside me… I want it...want your cum..."
His rhythm breaks. Hips stutter. "You want me to breed you? Want me to knock you up right fucking now?"
"Yes...fuck yes...do it..."
He slams in one last brutal time, buries himself as deep as he can go, and comes with a guttural roar. Hot, thick pulses flood me, spurt after spurt. The feel of him losing it tips me over. I shatter, clenching so hard my vision whites out, thighs shaking, screaming his name until my voice cracks. He keeps grinding through it, milking every last drop, until we're both trembling wrecks.
He collapses half on top of me, still inside, still hard enough that I feel every twitch. His arms band around me like steel. Face buried in my neck. Breathing ragged against my skin. "Mine," he mutters again, softer this time but no less possessive. "Fucking mine. Never letting you go. Never."
I thread my fingers through his damp hair, kiss the side of his jaw. "Never want you to."
We're still tangled up, sweaty and breathing hard, my head on his chest while he strokes lazy circles on my back. His heartbeat is thumping strong under my ear, steady now, not the frantic racing it used to be right after the hospital.
"Hold up," he mutters.
I lift my head. "What?"
He reaches over to the nightstand without letting me go, arm stretched long. His fingers fumble in the top drawer for a second, then he pulls something out. Small black velvet box. My stomach drops like I'm on a rollercoaster.
"Lucky..."
He flips the box open one-handed. Inside is a diamond ring. Not huge, not flashy, but perfect. Simple round stone, clean setting, nothing that screams "trying too hard."
He takes my left hand, the one that's been resting on his scar. Slides the ring onto my finger slowly, like he's scared it'll disappear if he moves too fast. It fits perfectly. Of course it does. He probably measured my finger while I was asleep or some creepy romantic shit.
