I walk to the bed and drop her onto the mattress. She bounces, hair fanning out like a dark halo. I stand at the edge of the bed and unbuckle my belt, the leather snapping in the quiet. "Strip," I order.
Bianca grabs the hem of my shirt and yanks it over her head, exposing her heavy tits, the nipples already engorged and dark, begging to be bitten. She shoves her panties down her legs—the scrap of lace already fucking soaked through with cream—and lies back with her legs spread wide, her pussy bared and dripping for the man who owns her.
She watches me, her eyes dark with the need to be fucked.
I shed my jeans and boxers. Cool air hits my skin, but my blood runs hot, liquid fire in my veins. I crawl onto the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. I loom over her, boxing her in with my arms, caging her.
"You understand what happened down there?" I ask, voice rough. "Logan confirming it. The town knowing. There’s no walking away from this, Bianca. You’re tied to the club now. Tied to the violence."
She reaches up, hands landing on my chest, fingers curling into the mat of hair there. "I stopped running the day I met you."
I groan, a low, animalistic sound, and crash my mouth down on hers. My kiss is a brand. I sweep my tongue into her mouth, claiming every inch, tasting her submission. She meets me with equal fire, nails digging into my shoulders, hips bucking up to meet the heavy pressure of mine.
I break the kiss and trail down her jaw, biting the sensitive cord of her neck, leaving a mark that will bruise. I want everyone to see it. I want the next man who looks at her to see the purple welt on her skin and know a beast has been there.
"Mine," I murmur against her skin. "Say it."
"Yours," she gasps, head falling back against the pillow.
I move lower, hands mapping her body. I worship the softness of her, the give of her flesh. My thumbs press into the dip of her waist, then slide down to grip her hips. I shove her legs apart with my knee and settle between them. She’s drenched, her pussy open and soaking the sheets with the musky scent of her arousal.
I line the massive, purple head of my cock up against her soaking pussy and push. Slow. I want to feel every inch of her internal walls stretching and yielding as my thickness impales her, claiming every bit of her depth for my own.
She cries out, her hands clawing at the sheets as I bury myself inside her, filling her so completely there isn't room for anything else. Nothing feels more powerful than this—becoming a part of her anatomy. When I’m seated to the hilt, pulse to pulse, I stop.
"Look at me, Bee."
Her eyes flutter open, glazed and unfocused.
"You feel that?" I grind my hips, just a fraction.
"Yes," she whimpers.
"That’s where I live now." I withdraw almost completely, then slam my cock back home. "Right here."
The rhythm takes us. Heavy, sweaty, desperate. The bed frame groans against the wall, accompanying the wet slap of skin on skin. I’m driving the reality of our life into her. Every thrust is a promise of protection. Every time her body clenches around my cock, it’s a vow of loyalty.
I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, holding her down, dominating her. She arches her back, offering her chest. I lower my head and take a nipple into my mouth, suckling hard, biting down enough to make her keen.
"Shane," she begs, voice ragged. "Please. I’m close."
"Not yet," I growl against her breast. "You wait for me."
I pick up the pace, movements becoming jagged, forceful. The friction builds to an unbearable coil in my groin. I release her wrists and slide my hand down, grinding my thumb against her clit while my hips keep up a brutal pace.
She comes hard. I feel her pussy walls clamp around my cock, milking me, the spasms nearly making me snap. I growl her name as she thrashes under me, her wetness making every thrust a loud, messy slap of skin.
I don't hold back. I ram into her, burying my cock until my heavy balls slap against her soaking pussy. Once. Twice. I roar as I blast a massive load deep inside her, coating her internal walls with my hot, thick seed until she’s overflowing with my cum.
I collapse on top of her, my weight crushing her into the mattress. She doesn't push me away. She wraps her arms aroundmy back, holding me, fingers tracing soothing patterns on my sweaty skin.
We lay there, the silence of the room heavy and comfortable. My pulse slows. The adrenaline fades, replaced by a deep, bone-settling peace I haven't felt since before Maddie was born.
I roll to the side, pulling her with me so we’re spooning, arm draped heavily over her waist, hand resting flat on her stomach.
"You realize," I say, voice raspy near her ear, "that you’re going to have to learn to shoot."
She laughs, a vibration against my chest. "Is that part of the job description?"
