I can feel my mouth opening anyway, working on something that isn’t quite a breath and isn’t quite a word.
But when I actually feel him about to withdraw his hold—
“P-Please—”
How shameful it is that it’s the threat of not touching him that makes me start losing my mind?
“Then say it!”
I don’t want to.
I don’t.
I don’t.
But the moment I feel cool air replace the heat of his touch—
“I’m yours.”
The words come tumbling out, and they hang in the air between us—quiet, small, impossible to take back. I can hear the shake in my own voice. I can hear how much it cost me, and I don’t know if he can hear it too, but I know from the way his face changes that he heard at least something.
Triumph glitters in his eyes.
And I don’t know—I just don’t know what to feel anymore about anything. I can’t even think. Because he’s good as his word, he’s touching me again, and this time, his fingers are movingme,claiming yet another part of my body.
Oh—
His eyes don’t leave mine as my own body starts to move. I find myself clutching his shoulders as pleasure starts to build, tightening and tightening and tightening, and my head tips back against the pillow, and my legs are trembling against the sheets, and somewhere in the dim corner of my mind I can hear myself making sounds I don’t recognize—
A cry spirals out of my throat as his touch reaches all the way inside of me, so, so deep that he’s still a part of me as I shatter.
Arkane.
I collapse against the pillow, my chest heaving. He’s above me, watching me come back, and his eyes are on mine.
I really am his.
I feel the truth of it, the same way I felt it last time.
But this time there’s a second thought right behind the first one, and I can’t stop that one either.
But what about him?
Why am I not as sure that he’s also mine?
