“So greedy,moya,” I tease.
I sink into her in one smooth, deep stroke. The feeling of being inside her reclaiming this space is intoxicating. I start to pump, my strokes long and deep, filling her with every thrust. Her hands grip my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin, a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure building at the base of my spine.
This time is different. The first time was about reassurance, a slow, tender claiming. This is about need. Raw, desperate, animalistic need. I pick up the pace, my hips snapping forward, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the room. The bed frame creaks in protest.
I rise on my arms, changing the angle, driving into her with a new, frantic intensity. The head of my cock kisses her cervix with every powerful thrust, and she meets me, pushing her hips up to take every inch. Her breasts bounce with the force of my movements, and I lower my head to capture a nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, grazing it with my teeth. She cries out, her pussy tightening around me.
“No,” I growl. “Not yet.”
I need more. I need to see all of her. I pull out, ignoring her whimper of protest, and flip her over onto her hands and knees. The sight of her like this, her pale skin marked with those ugly bruises, her ass presented to me, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, nearly makes me lose my mind. I run a hand over the curve of her spine, a gesture of both reverence and possession.
I enter her from behind, my hands gripping her hips. This position lets me go deeper, harder. I set a punishing rhythm, my balls slapping against her clit with every thrust. I reach around, my fingers finding her clit. I rub it in time with my thrusts, and she immediately starts to tense again, her breath hitching.
“Yes… yes… right there…”
I can feel my own climax building, a tight, hot coil in my gut. My movements become erratic, more desperate. I’m chasing my release, chasing the oblivion I can only find inside her.
“Come with me,” I growl, my voice strained. “Now.”
That’s all it takes. Her body convulses, her pussy clamping down on me like a fist as her orgasm rips through her. The sensation is too much. With a guttural roar, I slam into her one last time and let go. My cock pulses, spurting thick ropes of cum deep inside her, painting her walls, marking her as mine from the inside out.
I collapse over her, my weight pinning her to the mattress, my face buried in the sweat-damp hair at the nape of her neck. We’re both shaking, our bodies slick, our hearts hammering against each other. I’m still inside her, softening now, but I don’t want to move. I never want to move again. I press a soft kiss to her shoulder, then another to the back of her neck. We’re a tangled, breathless mess, and I’ve never felt more complete.
I slide to the side, keeping her back pinned to my chest. We lie there for a long time, our bodies tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. I press a soft kiss to her neck. Her pulse beats strongly against my lips.
The room grows quiet again, broken only by the sound of our breathing and the faint movement of sheets beneath us. Eventually, she sinks back into the pillows with a long breath.
I sit up. “Stay there.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That sounds suspicious.”
“I’m making breakfast.”
Her mouth curves as she watches me. “Then I fully support this plan.”
The kitchen is quiet when I step into it. Morning light fills the space here more fully, reflecting off the counter and stainless steel appliances. Outside the windows, the city is waking slowly, distant traffic beginning to build.
I keep breakfast simple—coffee, eggs, and toast. The familiar smell fills the apartment quickly.
When I return to the bedroom, Rowan is propped against the headboard with the blanket pulled up and tucked under her arms. She watches me approach with open interest.
“Well,” she remarks, “that’s impressive.”
I place the tray across her lap. “Eat.”
“Yes,pakhan.” Her tone is dry.
Rowan takes a sip of coffee and sighs contentedly. “That might be the best thing I’ve tasted in my life.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Possibly,” she laughs softly.
We eat quietly. The moment feels almost normal until Rowan glances up at me again.
“Do you think it’s over?” she asks.
The question stills the room. I set the coffee cup down carefully. “No.”
