His forehead drops to mine. His breath is ragged. His entire body is trembling with the effort of holding still.
"You feel—" He stops. His jaw clenches. "I have no words."
"Then don't talk," I say. "Just move."
He pulls back slowly, the ridges dragging against my inner walls.
And then he thrusts forward.
Hard.
Deep.
Claiming.
I scream.
Not from pain.
From pleasure so intense it borders on agony.
He sets a rhythm—slow at first, then faster, harder, deeper. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he drives into me again and again.
The sound of our bodies meeting fills the suite. Wet. Rhythmic. Primal.
His wings unfurl completely, the massive membrane stretching wide before wrapping around us both, cocooning us in a golden-lit sanctuary.
"Mine," he growls. "You are mine."
"Yours," I gasp. "I'm yours."
The golden veins flare brighter.
His thrusts become more erratic. More desperate.
I can feel my own release building, the heat in my core intensifying with every thrust.
"Cyprian—I'm—"
"Come," he commands. "Come for me."
I do.
My orgasm rips through me with the force of an earthquake, my entire body convulsing beneath him.
And he follows.
He comes with a roar, his cock pulsing inside me as he empties himself completely.
The heat is overwhelming. His veins flare brilliant gold, illuminating every corner of the darkened suite.
And then I feel it.
The bond.
Sealing.
Permanent.
