Her nails drag down the plaster, leaving pale scratches. She doesn’t push me away. She arches back into me, needing, chasing, like she’s just as ruined as I am.
I bury my face in the curve of her neck, teeth grazing skin, words coming out low and viciously soft.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I growl. “I’ve been waiting years to touch you without a wall between us, and now you’re going to feel everything I ever held back.”
She gasps, fingers curling into fists, and that sound is a fuse inside my skull. My hands slide lower, spanning her hips, keeping her exactly where I want her. I move against her in a rhythm that’s merciless and slow, grinding, making her feel every inch of my control without a single space to run.
“I’m still counting,” I whisper. “Counting every breath you take, every tremor, every sound. You think I’m going to stop? I’m never going to stop.”
Her head tips back. My lips brush the shell of her ear, my voice nothing but a rasp.
“You want to know why I came back? This is why. Because no one else will ever touch you like this, no one else will ever know the things I know, no one else will ever crawl inside you the way I already have. You’re not just mine, Raven — you’re my proof that I survived.”
She moans, a sound that’s half-plea, half-promise. My grip tightens, my body trembling against hers, a breath away from losing every ounce of control I have left. I drag my mouth across her jaw, filthy words spilling out like prayers I’ve been holding for a decade.
“I’m going to keep you here until you remember everything. Until you remember me. Until you understand why you can’t run. Until you feel me every time you close your eyes.”
Her fingers reach back, sliding up into my hair, tugging, a small act of rebellion that makes my pulse go ragged. She turns her head just enough to look at me over her shoulder, eyes dark and wet, voice broken but steady.
“Then make me remember.”
And something inside me snaps.
I press her harder to the wall, my breath hot against her neck, my words a snarl and a vow.
“I will.”
Her fingers slide into my hair first.
Not gentle. Not hesitant.
A tug like a leash, like she’s daring the monster to snap — and fuck, I do.
I spin her, lift her, pin her hard to the edge of the table — mouth on her throat, teeth dragging down like I’m markingterritory I’ve already bled for. Her gasp is air I haven’t breathed in ten years.
I drag my hands up under her thighs, spread her open without asking.
Because she wants to be ruined.
And I never fucking forgot how.
“You don’t get to touch me first,” I growl against her lips, biting the corner. “You don’t get to pretend you’re in control now. Not after the way you left me.”
Her eyes flash wide — confused, guilty, fucking perfect.
She doesn’t remember the worst parts yet.
But I do.
And tonight, I’m going to etch it into her bones.
“You begged me to let you go,” I whisper, dragging my fingers down her stomach, slow and deliberate. “You cried and screamed and still fucking watched me through the crack in the door after. You always watched, Raven.”
Her breath stutters.
She’s not sure if I’m talking about now or then. Good.
I slide two fingers down and press them against her, just enough to make her twitch.
