"Then come," I command, my voice a low, guttural growl that's all raw heat. "Now."
The word is a key, unlocking the cage she's been trapped in.
Her body bows off the bed, a perfect arch, as the orgasm rips through her violently. A scream rips from her throat, so loud, so raw, it's almost feral.
Her walls clamp down on me, a series of hard, rhythmic clenching that milks my cock, pulling me deeper, her body desperate for more.
"Fuck!" I roar, and slam my hips home, pinning her to the bed as I follow her over the edge, my own release tearing through me, a hot, blinding wave of pleasure so intense it steals the air from my lungs.
I come deep inside her, marking her, claiming her, my body shuddering with the force of it.
She’s still coming, her body convulsing beneath me, a series of long, drawn-out aftershocks that leave her trembling, her hands fisting in the sheets.
I collapse on top of her, my body a heavy, sated weight that presses her into the mattress. My face is buried in the crook of her neck, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I can feel hers beating against mine, a frantic, fluttery rhythm that seems like it'll never slow.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sounds in the room are our ragged breaths and the soft, distant hum of the early-morning birds outside the window.
We're a tangled mess of limbs, a sticky, sweaty, sated heap of satisfaction.
I can feel the wetness from her coating my thighs, and I know I overflowed in her because I can feel that too.
But I can't bring myself to give a fuck.
It's proof. A claim. A brand.
A wave of something raw and primitive surges through me, a dark, possessive satisfaction that's both terrifying and exhilarating.
She's mine. And not just in bed.
The thought hits me with the force of a physical blow. Not just her body, but all of her. Her fire, her fight, her vulnerability. I want it all. I want to be the one to break her. And the one to put her back together.
The thought is so intense, so unexpected, that for a moment, it scares the hell out of me.
Or it should anyway.
I'm not a man who does permanence.
I'm not a man who does feelings.
I'm a man who takes what he wants and leaves when he's done.
But with her... with her, I don't want to leave.
I want to stay.
I want to wake up next to her in the morning, to see her sleepy, soft, and vulnerable, to know that she's mine.
I wait for the panic to come, as I lie there, still buried in her.
It doesn't.
There's just a quiet certainty, a deep, abiding peace that settles over me, as warm and comforting as a well-worn blanket.
I don't even question why I don't question it.
As far as I'm concerned, that's just the way it is now.
