"Who owns every fucking part of you?"
"You do. Sir, please, I can't?—"
"Come," he commands. "Come on my cock. Now."
I shatter. The orgasm detonates through me with violent intensity, my body clenching around him, muscles seizing, vision whiting out. I'm crying out his name, gasping, drowning in sensation.
He follows me over with a harsh groan. Driving deep one last time, grinding against me, filling me with heat. Marking me from the inside out.
We collapse together on the mattress, both gasping, both slick with sweat. Marked and claimed and alive.
After a moment, he withdraws carefully and checks the damage. His fingers trace each bite with something like reverence mixed with savage satisfaction.
"These will bruise," he says.
"Good."
"You'll feel them under the tactical vest."
"I want to feel them." I meet his eyes. "Want to remember this. Remember you. When we're in that facility."
Predatory pleasure curves his mouth. Possessive satisfaction darkens his eyes. "You're learning."
"You're teaching me."
He kisses me again, slower now, thorough. Then pulls back. "Not done with you yet."
He moves down my body, mouth blazing a path across my skin. His tongue traces my collarbone before moving lower. He cups my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they peak hard and aching. Then his mouth closes over one, suckinghard enough to make me arch off the mattress. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, sending sparks straight to my core. He lavishes attention on one breast while his fingers work the other—pinching, rolling, tugging until I'm gasping and writhing beneath him.
When he finally releases my nipple with a wet pop, he moves to the other, giving it the same thorough worship. Sucking. Biting. Leaving me trembling and desperate.
Then lower. Mouth hot against my ribs, my stomach, the curve of my hip.
He settles between my thighs, spreads me open with his thumbs. Exposing me completely. "I want to taste us together. Taste my cum dripping out of you."
Then his mouth is on me. Tongue working with devastating precision. Licking up the mess we made, sucking, taking me apart with the same controlled violence he brings to demolitions.
The second orgasm builds faster than the first. He adds fingers. Two. Curling them to hit the spot that makes me see stars. His tongue circles my clit with relentless rhythm while he fucks me with his fingers.
"Come for me again," he says against my skin. Voice dark and commanding. "Show me how good I make you feel. Show me what this pussy does when I own it."
I do. Breaking apart under his mouth. Fingers tangled in his hair. Body arching off the mattress. Crying out so loud I don't care if Luc hears.
He gentles me through the aftershocks. Licking softer. Kissing my thighs. Then crawls back up my body to kiss me deep and filthy. I taste us both on his tongue. Salt and sex and possession.
"My turn," I say when I can speak again.
He raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to?—"
"I want to." I push him onto his back. "Lie still and let me."
For a moment, I think he'll argue. Take back control. But then he settles against the pillows, hands behind his head. Giving me access. Surrendering to this.
I start at his throat. Kissing down the column of muscle. Biting gently at his collarbone. My hands map scars and muscle, learning the geography of violence written on his skin. Each place that makes his breathing hitch. Each touch that makes tension coil through him.
Lower. Mouth tracing the line of his ribs. Tongue dipping into the hollow of his hip. Teeth grazing the tendon of his thigh.
When I finally wrap my hand around him, he's already hard again. Thick and hot against my palm. I stroke slowly, learning the weight and texture, how he responds when I twist my wrist just right.
