Tomorrow I leave. Tomorrow I disappear and she'll hate me. But now she is chained to me. And that will not change. Not even with my absence. Tomorrow I will leave to come back to her.
But tonight—
"Yes," I managed.
"Good." She said it simply, like we'd just decided on Thai food instead of crossing the one line we'd sworn we'd never cross.
Our eyes met and neither of us talked. Was it silent for a second? A minute? An hour or a year? I don't know. The air between us was thick with everything we'd never said. Everything we'd avoided. Everything that was now impossible to take back.
I looked down at her, still catching my breath, body humming from what she'd just done to me. She was on her knees, lips swollen, eyes dark and locked on mine—looking like every forbidden dream I'd ever had.
My voice came out low, rough. "You okay, baby? Need a minute?"
She shook her head slowly, not breaking eye contact. Her hands slid up my thighs, steadying herself but also claiming territory.
"No," she whispered, voice husky, certain.
Then she said the words that nearly stopped my heart.
"I want you to lick me."
Her voice was low, certain. Eyes locked on mine.
10
ALENA
He looked at me.
Just looked.
Kneeling there on the floor, lips still swollen from taking him, I watched his face shift—from post-orgasm haze to something darker. Focused. Predatory.
His eyes dragged down my body like hands, cataloging every inch of naked body. When his gaze came back to mine, I saw it—the decision. The claiming.
He didn't say a word.
Just reached down, hands firm under my arms and lifted me like I weighed nothing. My breath caught as he carried me the three steps to my dresser and set me down on the edge, wood cool against my thighs.
Still silent. Still staring. But now he seems massive. Yes, ok he is 6 ft 5 but now he seems even bigger. His blue eyes seem like they shine in the half-lit room, and his shoulders now seem bigger. His chest, larger and his abs move in his each breath. The V that goes down to this dick hardens with every move he makes. And all of his tattoos follow the move of his hard muscles.
Fuck.
Is Drogo this sexy? Has he always been this sexy and I just... never let myself see it?
He stepped back.
Just looked.
Drinking me in like he'd been dying of thirst for seventeen years and I was water. His jaw worked, muscles jumping, hands flexing at his sides like he was restraining himself from grabbing me.
"Mine," he said, voice rough. Not a question. A statement. A claim.
Then his eyes met mine, and I saw it—hunger so raw it stole my breath.
He moved forward, hands firm on my knees, and spread my legs wide.
I sucked in air, exposed, vulnerable, my pussy already wet and aching from watching him watch me.
