We eat at the table, the candles casting dancing shadows across his harsh features, softening them just enough that I can see glimpses of the man beneath the hunter. He devours the steak with obvious appreciation, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Good?" I ask, taking a sip of the red wine he'd produced from some hidden stash.
"Perfect." His foot finds mine under the table, his larger one covering mine completely. Even that small point of contact feels possessive. "Like you."
I roll my eyes, but can't stop the pleased flush that rises to my cheeks. "Definitely getting smoother."
He grins, a flash of teeth in his beard that still makes my heart stutter. "Tell me something."
"What?"
"What happens next? Now that you're free." His tone is casual, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the slight tightening around his eyes. He's still afraid I'll leave, despite everything.
I set down my fork, meeting his gaze directly. "I stay. Here. With you."
The tension eases from his frame. "You sure? Could go anywhere now. Start fresh."
"I am starting fresh." I reach across the table, placing my hand over his much larger one. "Right here. With you."
Something flickers in his eyes—relief, maybe. Possession, certainly. He turns his hand over, engulfing mine. "Mine," he says quietly.
"Yours," I confirm. "By choice now. Not necessity."
He stands abruptly, tugging me to my feet and around the table until I'm pressed against him, his hardness evident against my stomach. "Say it again," he demands, hand threading through my hair.
"I'm yours." I rise on tiptoes, brushing my lips against his. "By choice."
The kiss starts gentle but quickly turns hungry, his tongue demanding entrance which I gladly grant. His hands roam my body possessively, hiking up the sundress I'm wearing until he can cup my ass. I gasp when I feel his fingers discover I'm not wearing panties.
"Naughty girl," he growls against my mouth. "Were you planning this?"
"Maybe," I admit with a smile. "Is it working?"
In answer, he lifts me onto the table, shoving our plates aside with one sweep of his arm. The crash of breaking dishes shouldalarm me, but all I can focus on is the heat in his eyes as he pushes my thighs apart, stepping between them.
"Look at you," he says, voice rough with desire. “Tempting Daddy with no panties. Getting his cock all hard and aching.”
His words send warmth flooding through me that has nothing to do with physical arousal. No one has ever looked at me the way Gray does—like I'm precious, necessary, worth burning the world for.
He pushes my dress up around my waist, exposing me completely to his hungry gaze. One large finger traces through my folds, finding me already slick and ready.
"Always so wet for me," he murmurs approvingly. "For Daddy."
"Only for you," I confirm, spreading my legs wider in silent invitation.
He takes his time, though, teasing me with those skilled fingers until I'm writhing on the table, desperate for more. Only when I'm begging does he finally free his cock from his jeans, the thick length springing forth already flushed and hard.
"Please," I whimper, reaching for him. "Need you inside me."
"Such a perfect little girl for Daddy," he praises, guiding the head of his cock to my entrance. "So sweet. So eager."
He pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size even after all these weeks of regular claiming. The stretch is delicious, the fullness exactly what I need. When he's buried to the hilt, he pauses, one hand coming up to cup my face.
"Mine," he says simply.
"Yours," I agree, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper.
He sets a steady rhythm, not the frantic claiming of yesterday against the wall, but something more deliberate. More meaningful. His eyes never leave mine as he moves within me, his gaze so intense I couldn't look away if I tried.
