She licks them without question.
And I fucking groan.
Not because it’s hot—though it is. God, it is.
But because she doesn’t even realise what she’s doing to me. Doesn’t realise how much I’ve starved for this—for her. For the sound she makes when I slam into her, deep and brutal, my name torn from her mouth like a scream she tried to swallow.
“You know why I came back for you?” I growl against her jaw. “Because I was never gone. I’ve been in your walls, in your fucking dreams, in your veins. I watched every man who ever looked at you. I marked them. I made sure they stayed away. You were mine before you even knew what the word meant.”
She whimpers—and it’s the prettiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
“Say it,” I demand. “Say whose you are.”
Her lips tremble. “Yours.”
“Again.”
“Yours.”
“Again—louder.”
“YOURS.”
I slam her back against the wall so hard the picture frame nearby tilts.
And I smile.
Because finally—finally—she’s saying the thing I always knew was true.
I move faster now, harder, rougher, dragging cries from her throat that sound like prayers and punishments all at once. My teeth scrape her shoulder.
My fingers dig into her ass. And when her body locks up, trembling around me, I don’t stop.
I press my forehead to hers, panting.
“You don’t cum unless I say so.”
“Please—”
“You want to finish?” I rasp. “Then tell me something no one else knows. Tell me a secret. Tell me a sin.”
She whimpers again, shaking, her voice cracking as she sobs out the words?—
“I used to dream about you before I ever met you. I think—I think some part of me knew.”
Fuck.
I nearly lose it.
Not because it’s sweet.
Because it’s real.
Because some part of her always knew I was coming for her.
That I’d rip down every door between us.
That I’d burn the fucking world to lay her down in ash and call it holy.
