My hand slides between my legs, fingers finding my clit. The angle is awkward but the added sensation makes me clench around him.
"That's it." He pulls almost all the way out, then thrusts back in. Slow and deep. He sets a rhythm that's designed to unravel me. "Make yourself come on my cock."
His hips roll in steady, controlled thrusts. Not the violent taking from last night, but calculated and precise. Every angle chosen to drag against the spots that make me shake. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.
My fingers work faster, chasing the release he's building. The combination of his cock filling me and my own touch pushes me higher. Pressure coils low in my belly, spreading through my thighs.
"Close." I barely manage the word.
"Then come." His teeth find my shoulder, biting down hard enough to hurt. The sharp pain pushes me over the edge.
I come hard, clenching around him, biting the pillow to muffle my cry. Pleasure crashes through me in waves while he keeps thrusting, prolonging it until I'm trembling and oversensitive.
"Good girl." He picks up his pace now, using me for his own pleasure. His hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back. "One more. Give me one more."
"I can't?—"
"You can." His hand replaces mine between my legs, fingers ruthless on my clit. "You're going to come again and then I'm going to fill you. Understand?"
The overstimulation is almost too much. Almost. But his fingers know exactly how to touch me, exactly how much pressure to use. The second orgasm builds faster than the first, sharper, more intense.
When it hits, I bite down on my own hand to keep from screaming. My body clamps around him and he groans, his rhythm finally breaking. Three more hard thrusts and then he's coming, cock pulsing inside me as he empties himself with a low curse against my neck.
We stay like that for long moments. His cock still inside me. His arm tight around my waist. Both of us breathing hard.
When he finally pulls out, I feel the loss immediately. He rolls me onto my back, settling between my thighs. His cum is leaking out of me but he doesn't seem to care. Just looks at me with dark, satisfied eyes.
"You're mine." Not a question. A statement of fact.
"Yes." The truth of it settles into my bones.
He kisses me then. Slower than before but no less intense. Thorough. Possessive. Claiming my mouth the way he claimed my body.
When he pulls back, his thumb traces my swollen lips. "Get dressed. We have a debriefing to get to."
The shift from dominant lover to tactical operative is jarring. But that's Eli. That kind of compartmentalization would be cold if I didn't see the heat still burning in his eyes when he looks at me.
I sit up slowly, feeling the ache in muscles I forgot I had. He watches me dress with obvious appreciation, not bothering to hide his interest.
"What?" I ask when I catch him staring.
"Just thinking about doing that again later."
Heat floods through me despite exhaustion. "Later?"
"Later." His mouth curves into something that's not quite a smile but close. "After we deal with the FBI."
He dresses in silence broken only by the sounds of fabric and breathing. Eventually the outside world intrudes again. Tactical gear. Weapons. The reality of federal debriefings and trafficking investigations.
But underneath it all, I can still feel where he touched me. Where he marked me. The reminder that I'm his.
"You okay?" Simple question that carries weight.
"Better than okay." I turn to face him. See the controlled intensity I've come to recognize as Eli trying to navigate something outside tactical parameters. "You?"
"Don't know yet. Graves is in custody. Network's exposed. But until federal prosecutors finish rolling everyone up, Traci's still a target." He pauses. "And I don't know what happens after."
"After what?"
