"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Don't stop. Adrian, please?—"
"Who's in control, Sera?"
"You are." The words come out strangled.
"Say it again."
"You're in control. You—fuck—you're always in control."
"Good girl."
I release her hands and lift her. She wraps her legs around me instinctively as I carry her to the bed.
But the moment I lay her down, she flips the script.
Her hands are on my shirt, unbuttoning it with shaking fingers. "I need you."
"I know you do."
"No, I mean—" She gets my shirt open, her hands on my chest. "I need this. Need you. Not because I'm negotiating. Because I want you."
The admission does something to me.
Makes the game feel less like a game.
"Sera—"
"Show me." Her eyes meet mine. "Show me I'm yours."
So I do.
I fuck her hard, rough, claiming every inch of her. Reminding her with every thrust who she belongs to.
But she's not passive. Not submissive.
She meets me thrust for thrust, nails digging into my back, legs wrapped around me, whispering filthy encouragement in my ear.
"Harder. Show me who I belong to."
"You want harder?" I grab her thighs, spread her wider, drive deeper. "You want me to fucking ruin you?"
"Yes—God yes?—"
"Mine. Say it."
"Yours. I'm yours. Always—fuck—always yours."
The words shouldn't affect me this much. They're just part of the game. Part of the negotiation.
But they feel real.
Too real.
"Come for me," I order. "Come on my cock."
