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He starts to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that has me gasping.

"Say my name," he commands.

"Brock."

"Again."

"Brock."

He picks up the pace, his hands gripping my hips, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust.

"You're mine," he growls. "Say it."

"I'm yours," I gasp.

"Again."

"I'm yours, Brock. I'm yours."

He groans, his control slipping, his movements becoming harder, more desperate.

"Come for me," he commands. "Come on my cock."

And I do.

I come so hard I see stars, my body clenching around him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

Brock follows a moment later, his body shuddering, my name on his lips.

We lie tangled together afterward, our breathing slowly returning to normal.

Brock's hand strokes up and down my spine, gentle and possessive.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to leave," he says quietly.

I should be scared. I should pull away.

But instead, I feel a rush of exhilaration.

"I'm still terrified," I whisper.

"We'll figure it out."

"This is going to be complicated."

"I know."

"But I want to try."

Brock pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes intense.

"Then we'll try," he says. "Together."

I nod, my heart pounding.

"Together."

He kisses me softly, and I let myself believe—just for this moment—that we can make this work.