Now, Tory—
I want it now.”
Whatever restraint he’d clung to shattered. He dragged her back against him, his mouth crashing to her neck, his hands grasping her as if nothing beyond that room had ever existed.
Her body burned under his touch—his hunger colliding with hers, pleasure ricocheting between them in a relentless surge. Every gasp of hers crashed back into him, every pulse of his need thundered through her veins. It was a dizzying, dangerous loop, a wildfire feeding on itself, until neither of them knew where one ended and the other began.
“Dask, Ami…”
His voice was wrecked, raw with desperation.
“You’ll have to—”
“The pillow, Tory—”
He was already reaching for it.
She dropped forward onto her elbows, her face sinking into the pillow as he came over her, his weight and heat pinning her down. His chest pressed to her back, his breath wild against her neck as his hand locked over hers on the mattress. His lips brushed her ear, his voice a husked vow.
“Every sound. Every scream. You give them all to me.”
Then he was there—pressing into her with a deep, slow drive, restraint warring with the urgency in his body. Heat spread through her, molten and consuming, until every nerve burned with him.
Her muffled cry vibrated against the pillow, but it was useless—every ounce of sound was already pouring into him, every pulse of him already in her.
He filled her deeper, each thrust carrying both the strength to destroy and the tenderness that never would. He felt like home and havoc in the same heartbeat.
“Ami—dask—” his breath fractured against her skin. “You feel… dask—so good.”
His pleasure flooded her again, hotter, more consuming, until the sensation stole her breath.
She broke, lifting her head just enough to gasp, “Tory—don’t stop—”
Every thrust, every shudder, every thundering beat of his chest poured into her—and came back again. The loop tightened until she couldn’t tell if the heartbeat in her ears was hers or his, if the cry rising in her throat belonged to her or was dragged from him.
He thrust harder, and she swore she could feel the exact moment he clenched his jaw, the tremor that rippled down his legs, the groan he swallowed against her skin. It made her knees weak, her pulse hammer.
It was too much.It was perfect.
The world outside—the voices, the danger, the war—fell away under the rhythm of him moving inside her, each drive dragging her deeper into the loop that bound them.
Tighter.
Faster.
She wanted to scream his name, but it was trapped in the pillow, in his grip, in the unrelenting way he held her right at the edge.
His mouth brushed her ear, his voice a wrecked growl.
“I know what you want. I can feel it.”
Her sob tangled with a laugh, desperate, wild.
“Then give it—give it to me—”
The world blurred, and then—
His voice.
