“Fuck, Mackenzie…” he rasped, voice shaking. His jaw clenched as I started to move. I was slow at first, deliberate, dragging him in and out of me with a rhythm meant to undo him. Every time I felt him getting close, I stopped.
His head fell back, chin tilting toward the ceiling, breath ragged.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
“Good,” I whispered, leaning down until my lips brushed his. “Then die knowing I’m the only one who gets you like this.”
I rocked harder, faster, and he lost whatever control he had left. His hands flew back to my hips, but I caught his wrists and pressed them into the mattress, pinning him there.
He was trembling beneath me, chest heaving, muscles drawn tight like a bowstring. The cocky brat who used to tease me was gone.
Now he was completely at my mercy.
He stared up at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Jesus, fuck,” he groaned, completely helpless now, hips bucking up into me with every desperate thrust. His eyes were pleading, blown wide with need. “I’m—fuck, baby, I’m… am I allowed to cum? I… can’t… last…”
“No.” The word came out firm, final, and it made him shiver. I stilled my hips, feeling him pulse inside me.
“Please… please, Mackenzie… please,” he begged, voice breaking.
“Are you going to be a good boy?”
“Yes—fuck—yes. I’ll do anything you want. Anything you tell me.”
“Are you my bitch?”
His throat worked, a strangled sound leaving him. It wasn’t amusement, but disbelief, pride fighting desperation. “No?—”
I reached behind my ass and dug my nails into his balls just enough to make him choke on the word. His eyes opened wide.
“Say it,” I ordered. He shook his head, wanting to say no again, and I squeezed.
“I’m your bitch,” he whimpered, the last of his resistance collapsing.
“Cum for me,” I whispered, grinding down in slow, tight circles as another wave built inside me.
My hands slid to his throat, holding him there, groundinghim, and with a broken sound, Max surged up into me one last time, fingers fisting the sheets as his body jerked.
After, he just looked up at me.
All the feral heat was gone from his eyes, replaced by something softer. His eyes were open, unguarded, achingly familiar. The way he watched me then made my chest tighten. It wasn’t about control, or punishment, or who had won.
It was love.
He didn’t care that I’d pushed him, or made him break, or taken control. None of that mattered.
He still loved me.
He leaned his forehead against mine, both of us still catching our breath.
“Holy shit,” we said at the exact same time.
I laughed softly and rolled off him, but he immediately followed, his hand settling warm and possessive against my left breast, like he needed the contact.
“I… I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” he murmured, voice husky. His arms tightened around my waist, holding me close, caging me against him like he wasn’t ready to let go. “We really fucking consummated the hell out of our marriage.”
Every inch of me throbbed, pleasantly sore. His lips brushed over my temple, my jaw, the corner of my mouth. He gave me soft, lingering touches, like he couldn’t stop himself. Like he needed to keep reminding himself I was real.
