I hum around him, the vibration making him curse again. I bob my head, faster now, tongue swirling over the head each time I pull back. He's close—I can feel it in the way his thighs tense, the way his breath comes in sharp bursts. The power surges through me, knowing I have this fierce, unbreakable man unraveling under my mouth.
But I won't let him finish. Not yet. I want him desperate, aching for me the way I've been aching since he stepped into that danger for me.
Just as his grip tightens, as his abs clench and he mutters my name like a plea, I pull off with a wet pop, my hand squeezing the base to hold him back. He jerks, eyes flying open, wild and frustrated.
“Not yet,” I say, smirking up at him, my lips swollen and shiny from him. “I need you inside me first.”
Before he can protest, I climb over him, straddling his hips. My pussy is slick, dripping from the thrill of pleasuring him. I position myself above his cock, rubbing the head against my folds, coatinghim in my wetness. He watches, transfixed, hands finally moving to my waist, but I bat them away.
“Hands off,” I command, my voice breathy but firm. “Let me ride you.”
His jaw clenches, but he obeys, fists balling into the sheets again. The submission in his eyes— from this man who just dominated Jett’s thugs—sends a shiver down my spine.
I sink down onto him slowly, inch by torturous inch, gasping at the stretch. He's thick, filling me completely, hitting every sensitive spot as I take him to the hilt.
“Oh god,” I moan, pausing to adjust, my hands on his chest for leverage. His eyes are locked on where we're joined, pupils blown wide.
Then I start moving. Not gentle. Not slow. I ride him hard, hips slamming down, grinding against him with each thrust. The bed creaks under us, protesting the force, but I don't care. Every bounce sends jolts of pleasure through me, my clit rubbing against his pelvis, building that coil tighter and tighter.
“You feel that?” I pant, leaning forward to brace my hands on his shoulders, nails digging in. “This is what you do to me. Fighting like that… protecting me… it makes me want to fuck you until we both break.”
Ethan's control fractures. He thrusts up to meet me, deep and punishing, his hands finally grabbing my ass, spreading me wider as he drives into me. “Lucky,” he growls, voice raw with emotion. “You're mine. All fucking mine.”
The possessiveness in his words tips me over. I cry out, my pussy clenching around him as the orgasm rips through me, waves of heat pulsing from my core. I keep riding, chasing every last spark, my body trembling.
He follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural moan, his cock pulsing as he spills inside me, hot and endless. The sensation prolongs my climax, drawing it out until I'm shuddering, spent.
I collapse onto the bed beside him, boneless, my face pressed to the crook of his neck. Sweat slicks our skin, breaths mingling in ragged harmony. His arms wrap around me immediately, strong and secure, pulling me close like he'll never let go.
Safe. Again.
Always.
My breathing finally slows enough that my brain comes back online. Ethan’s chest rises under my cheek—steady, grounding, already cooling from the high.
He drags a hand down my spine, slow and lazy. “You alive?” he murmurs, voice rough enough to bruise.
“Barely.” I nuzzle deeper into his neck. “You killed me. Congratulations. Add that to your résumé.”
A low laugh rumbles through him. “Mm. Right under ‘action movie hero,’ yeah?”
Heat hits my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Oh, you did.” His fingers trace the back of my thigh, wickedly smug. “And I’m never letting you forget it.”
I lift my head, just enough to see that tiny, rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re impossible.”
“You started it.” His thumb brushes my hip. “Calling me a bloody hero while climbing me like a tree—hard not to get an ego from that.”
“Oh my God.” I drop my face back into his neck. “I take it back.”
“No, you don’t.” He shifts, rolling us so I’m sprawled completely over him, pinned by his warmth. “You like it. Admit it.”
I bite his shoulder, gently. “Fine. Maybe I like it a little.”
“A little,” he repeats, mock-offended. “Lucky, you were shaking.”
“That’s because you were—” I wave a hand vaguely, still draped over him, “—doing illegal things to my internal organs.”
