Red exhales, slow and controlled. "I thought you had to sign up for that class?"
"I did. Don't worry, they'll bill your account," Cloud states.
"Gee. That was nice of you," Red mutters.
"Aw. Thanks, babe," I gush, tiptoe, kiss, then beam at him.
"So adorable," Cloud praises.
Red looks between us like he's lost control of a narrative. His irritation sharpens.
"He's hot when he's annoyed, isn't he?" I say to Cloud.
She nods. "For sure."
Red's exasperation brews.
I lean in and whisper, "You don't get to pretend I'm not here just because the sun's up."
Something flickers across his face. He doesn't respond.
Cloud backs away, still grinning. "Gym in ten. I'll get our mats in place!"
"Thanks, girl! Be there soon!"
She disappears down the hall, humming.
Red shuts the door, and silence stretches between us.
His eyes sweep over the sheet, then freeze on the bare skin at my shoulder. He steps closer and lightly grazes the bruised spot on my neck.
Pain tips into arousal, blooming a sensation that hurts just enough to heighten awareness. It's intimate rather than unpleasant, blurring the line between tenderness and wanting more.
He presses lightly.
Fresh need rips through me, causing me to squeeze my thighs tight, and shorten my inhale. He studies me, pushes again, and a soft ache edges with heat, tightening my skin and carrying the echo of teeth and lips from last night.
He drags two fingers over it several times, watching my reaction intensify with his brooding eyes.
Elation skyrockets, and I swallow hard. My insides quiver, and my voice catches. "Red."
"I left you marked," he admits, his voice rough with something he's no longer fully containing, like the line between restraint and ownership just blurred.
But there's nothing foggy about it to me. His mark on my skin isn't an accident. It's evidence. Proof that something in him slipped just enough to leave a trace behind. He didn't plan it and couldn't stop himself in time. His control fractured for a breath, and my body carries the record of it.
He owns me.
His fingers continue to brush the tender spot, the ache solidifying his love, and causing it to take root. If he were untouched by me, there would be nothing to hide. No bruise. No reason for his jaw to tighten when his eyes land on my neck. He marked me because his body answered before his rules could. Because for one moment, consequence didn't matter as much as proximity... As much as me.
That understanding settles deep and steady inside me. I'm not guessing anymore. I'm not reaching or hoping. He doesn't have to say it for me to know what it means. He didn't just touchme. He left himself behind, whether he intended to or not. And once I recognize that, everything shifts. I'm no longer chasing something just out of reach. I'm carrying proof that I was already chosen, long before he's ready to admit it.
"This complicates things," he says quietly, the words stripped of emotion, like possession is already a fact and consequences are an afterthought.
Glorious buzzing intensifies, flowing faster in my veins. I whisper, "Now that you realize you own me, you should see how far I'll let you take it." I drop the blanket.
His Adam's apple twitches, and his eyes roam over my body. His words come out as a warning. "No one should own you."
I reach for his cock, massaging the shaft, insisting, "But you do. And don't lie to me. You love it, don't you?"
