He owns me.He fucking owns me.
He bends his mouth to my neck, and I feel the sharp bite of his teeth. My pulse spikes, and I shatter. A tidal wave of pleasure overtakes me, and I spasm and moan as he roars through his own release. He thrusts, his cock pulsing inside me, as he rides out waves of pleasure mingled with mine.
Slowly, his thrusts begin to slow, and he loosens the belt at my neck. He’s panting, but he hasn’t said a word. I know without an explanation that being fucked soundly is part of the punishment I asked for, and I didn’t realize how badly I needed this… all of it.
He slides the belt off and tosses it to the bed.
He releases my hair, and it falls around my shoulders in messy waves, sticking to my cheeks still damp with tears. My body trembles as he lays down on the bed and pulls me to his chest.
Wordlessly he runs his fingers through my hair. Over and over, from the top of my head to the nape of my neck, he combs his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and enjoy the consolation of his touch, his tenderness more meaningful after his harshness.
I’m tired. So fucking tired.
He lifts the blanket and tucks it in around me.
“Get some sleep.”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all. I close my eyes, mentally and physically exhausted, and fall to sleep.
I wake hours later, the heaviness of his arm around me, his body behind me, spooning me. It’s warm and comfortable here, and I don’t ever want to leave.
But I have to.I have to.
I fall back asleep.
The next day, I’m groggy and sore when he gently shakes my shoulder.
“Gotta get up, baby,” he says, in that sleepy-gravelly voice I love.
“Mmm. Tired,” I groan.
He chuckles. “We've got a wedding to go to, darling.”
My eyes fly open, and I’m immediately sitting up. “What time is it?”
He chuckles, all rough and sleepy, beside me. He’s bare-chested and when I peek under the covers, completely naked and ready.
“Bloody hell, don’t you get any ideas, honey. I’ve got a wedding to get ready for and unlikesomepeople I know, I need to do more than slap on a pair of trousers and run my fingers through my hair.”
I toss the blankets aside, only to find myself hauled straight through the air and thrust against his chest.
“What was that?” he rumbles.
“Now, Mac?—”
His arm goes around my back, an iron band. “If I want to fuck you, I’ll fuck you. Got that?”
Mmm. I love when he gets all possessive-alpha. Turns me the hellon.
“Aye,” I say with a sigh. “I think if anything, last night taught methat.”
I still wish I knew the meaning of that punishment I practically begged him for. Does he know how badly I needed that to be real?
But could it be, when he doesn’t even know the full truth?
He pulls me to him, his hand on the back of my head, and gives me a quick, rough kiss.
“Go on, then,” he says, before he pats my arse.
