“I won’t need to,” she whispered.
He kissed her hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. “You might.”
“Then give me some of you—if not all of you.”
“I can do that.”
Then he reached for her wrists, bringing them gently above her head, pinning them there with one large hand—not tight, but firm. Testing. Teasing. And she shivered, not from fear, but from the thrill of giving that power over.To him.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
Her pulse stuttered. Her thighs clenched.
Tool noticed. He smirked, dark and knowing. “Yeah. That does something to you, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, lips parted, breath shallow. “It does.”
And finally—finally—he loosened the reins.
Tool’s grip on her wrists stayed gentle, but firm enough to hold her in place. His thumb brushed the inside of her arm, slow and deliberate, tracing the fine tremble just beneath her skin. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she arched into him, lips parted, breath catching when he whispered low against her throat.
“You’re sure?”
Brandi nodded, not just once but again, with her whole body. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”
Something inside him shifted—snapped, maybe. Like a chain that had been straining against too much restraint finally gave way. He let go of her wrists only to reach for the belt at his jeans, never breaking eye contact. His movements were smooth, practiced, but there was nothing casual about the way he watched her watching him.
He laid the belt on the bed next to her hands before moving away and stripped.
When his jeans hit the floor, he crawled back over her, one hand sliding behind her thigh and hitching it over his hip. Skin to skin now, the heat between them threatened to pull her under. She was already slick, already ready, and when he rutted against her once—just once—she gasped.
He caught her mouth with his, swallowing the sound, grinding into her slowly, purposefully. He wanted her to feeleverything.
“I’m not going to be gentle, baby,” he murmured into her skin, dragging his mouth down her neck, across the swell of her breast. “Not tonight.”
“Then don’t,” she breathed. “I don’t want soft. I wantyou.”
Tool didn’t need to be told again.
He reached between them, lining himself up with a low groan that vibrated against her chest. When he pushed inside, he moved slow—but not hesitantly. He filled her with one long, deep stroke that made her back arch and her mouth fall open in a moan. She clenched around him instinctively, and he cursed against her shoulder.
“Goddamn… You feel like heaven.”
He gave her a second to breathe, then pulled back and thrust again, this time harder, deeper. She cried out, the sound needy and wrecked, and he caught her wrists again, pinning them back over her head as he set a rhythm that was all control and heat and barely-leashed power.
Every thrust knocked the air from her lungs. Every drag of his hips made her want to scream. But what broke her—what undid her completely—was the way he looked at her. Like he was falling in love with her and hating himself for it.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “You understand me, Brandi? You give me this, and it’s not just sex. It’severything.”
“I know,” she gasped. “I want it. All of it.”
He let go of her wrists and grabbed her hips instead, driving deeper. “Good girl. That’s it. Let me see you fall apart.”
She was close—soclose—her nails dragging down his back, her legs tightening around him. He reached between them, thumb circling her clit with just enough pressure to send her spiraling.
When she came, it hit hard. Her whole-body shook. She clung to him, panting his name, and he held her through it—never stopping, never letting go.
He came right after, groaning into her shoulder as he buried himself deep one last time, pulsing inside her, lost in the moment she gave him without fear.
