The ride up the mountain is fast. I carve through the turns, leaning deep, the engine roaring in sync with my pulse. She clings to me, thighs gripping my hips, chest pressed against my back. I feel every breath she takes. By the time we skid to a halt in front of my cabin, the sun is dipping below the tree line, casting long, bruised shadows across the snow. I kill the engine. The silence of the Grizzly Peak district rushes back in.
I don't wait. I dismount and pull her off the bike, her feet barely touching the gravel before I’m kissing her. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a claiming. It’s a brand. I crush her mouth under mine, devouring the sound she makes, tasting the lingering adrenaline of the town hall victory. I walk her backward until her back hits the rough wood of the cabin door.
"You were perfect," I rasp, fumbling with the keys while keeping my mouth on her jaw, her neck. "So damn smart. So beautiful."
"You told them," she breathes, hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into the leather of mycut. "You told the whole town you... claimed me."
I shove the door open and kick it shut behind us, locking out the world. The cabin is warm, smelling of pine and woodsmoke. "I told them the truth."
I crowd her against the wall, my hands roaming over the navy blazer, finding the buttons. "I love you, Cassandra. I love your sharp tongue. I love your brain. And I really, really love the way you look at me when I tell you what to do."
"Chase…" Her voice breaks, a sultry whine that goes straight to my cock.
"Jacket off," I order.
She obeys instantly, shrugging the blazer off her shoulders. It drops to the floor.
"Blouse."
Her fingers tremble on the buttons of her white silk shirt. She fumbles the third one. I bat her hands away. "Too slow. Let me."
I fist the silk of her blouse and rip, the fabric shredded as buttons scatter like shrapnel. I don't give a damn about the cost. I press my face between her tits, inhaling the scent of her—sharp bergamot, and the raw, heavy sweetness of carnal fig rising up from her drenched pussy. She smells like my territory, soaked and ready to be occupied.
"Mine," I growl against her skin. "Every inch. The lawyer out there? She belongs to the world. But this? The woman trembling in my kitchen? She’s mine."
"Yes," she whispers, head falling back against the wall. "Yes, Chase. Yours."
I unzip her skirt, dragging it down over her hips, followed by her panties. I don't let her step out of her heels. I want her tall. I want the arch of her foot, the tension in her calves. I stand up, lifting her effortlessly. She wraps her legs around my waist, heels locking at the small of my back. I carry her to the heavy oak table—the same table where we first shattered the "fake" agreement—and sit her on the edge.
"Look at me," I command.
She opens her eyes. They’re glassy, wrecked.
"Say it again," I demand, stepping between her spread knees. I grip her hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, bruising her with my possession. "Tell me who you belong to."
"I belong to you," she sobs, the words tearing out of her. "I belong to Chase."
"That's right."
I kiss her again, swallowing her moan, as I free myself from my jeans.I yank my t-shirt over my head and toss it aside, exposing the snarling wolf inked across my chest to the firelight.I don't use a drop of oil; she’s already dripping for me. I can smell it. I guide the broad, blunt head of my cock to her opening and drive upward, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal, possessive shove. I want to feel her wet pussy stretch and tighten around the thick mass of me.
She screams, a shattered sound that fills the cabin, nails raking down my back. I groan, forehead resting against hers as I hold perfectly still, letting her adjust to the size of me. It’s tight. Her heat clamps around my shaft like a vice, trying to milk the seed right out of my balls before I even start to move.
"You’re never leaving," I grit out, starting to move. Slow, grinding strokes that drag against every ridge inside her. "I don’t care what job offers you get. I don’t care who calls. You live here now. With me."
"I’m not leaving," she pants, matching my rhythm. She bites my lip, hard enough to taste copper. "I’m staying right here. Fighting with you."
"Fighting for me," I correct, picking up the pace.
The friction is unbearable. Every thrust is a declaration. I slam into her, the table creaking under our weight, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the quiet room. She’s so responsive, so vocal. Every time I hit that deep spot inside her, she unspools, her composure fracturing until she’s just a mess of sensation and need.
"Take every fucking inch of my length," I praise her, watching her face as she gets close. Her head thrashes side to side, sweat slicking her hairline. "Take all of it. I want to feel you stretched to the limit, Cassandra. Give it to me."
"Chase, please, I can’t—it’s too much?—"
"Take it," I growl, snapping my hips, driving my cock as deep as it can go. "I’m going tobreedyou right here on this table.Fucking take all of it."
The praise sends her over. Her pussy spasms, clamping down on me in a violent, beautiful release. She screams my name, body bowing backward, arching like a drawn bow. I ride out her climax, gritting my teeth, fighting for control, but the feeling of her fluttering around me destroys my resolve. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive cord of muscle there, and pour myself into her.
