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“I’ve been waiting for this,” he growls. “You have no idea how bad I want you.”
He catches my hands and pins them above my head, holding them in place with one of his. I try to rub my thighs together to ease the ache there, but he shifts, nudging them apart with his knee and positioning himself at my entrance.
Slowly, so agonizingly slow, he pushes inside me, stretching me around his cock. My teeth dig into my lip, my head tilting back. He fills me so perfectly. It’s like we were made for each other. Maybe we were.
“Fuck.” His hips move in slow circles at first before picking up speed. Each thrust reaches deeper and deeper within me until all I can think about is the delicious friction.
My back arches, and I moan, struggling against his grip on my hands.
Satisfaction flickers in his eyes, and then he’s pulling out almost completely before slamming back in. I cry out.
“This is where you belong.” He sets a punishing rhythm. “With me.”
I cling to him, clinging to his words as much as his body. He’s overwhelming me, his scent and his touch and the possessive look in his eyes, and all I can do is take it. Take everything he gives me.
I’m reduced to incoherent moans and pleas, barely able to stay upright.
The building pressure peaks again, dragging a scream from my throat. My inner walls squeeze him, refusing to let go, and he doesn’t, his pace unrelenting.
I’m hypersensitive, each stroke sending shockwaves of bliss and overstimulation. “I can’t… it’s…”
“Not done with you yet.” He stops and carries me to the bed, his cock still buried deep inside me.
I can barely think straight, my mind a haze of pleasure and need.
He lays me down with surprising gentleness, a complete opposite to the punishing pace of his thrusts moments ago. But the reprieve is short-lived. He hooks my legs over his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to drive even deeper.
“Sebastian.” I’m not sure if I’m begging him to stop or to never stop.
His lips brush against my calf. “You’re mine, Lil. You’ve always been mine. Just like I’m yours. Remember?”
I want to deny it, to claim some semblance of control, but my body betrays me. I arch into him, meeting every deep thrust, chasing the pleasure only he can give me.
Because he’s right. I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise, but I’ve always been his. From the moment we met, he’s had me in a chokehold that I’ve never been able to shake.
And god, I’ve missed this. Missed him. The way he makes me feel—alive, desired, consumed.
“Yours,” I breathe, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside me. “I’m yours.”
His grip on my hips tightens, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Fuck, princess…”
Another orgasm builds within me, my body wound tight and desperate for release. I whimper, not even sure what I need.
But he knows. He always knows. His hand moves between us, his fingers finding my clit. It only takes a few strokes before I’m shattering, my vision whiting out and ecstasy crashing over me in waves.
He follows me with a guttural groan, his hips stuttering and releasing a hot warmth inside me.
We stay like that, locked together, breathing each other’s air. Returning to the present.
He lifts his head at last, gazing down at me with a softness that makes my chest ache. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb stroking over my lower lip. “You don’t smell like chocolate anymore.”
Wha—
Sebastian kisses me, slow and deep, before easing out of me with a groan and moving off the bed.
I reach for him, unwilling to let go of this moment. Of him. “Wait.”
He pauses, looking back at me with an inscrutable expression. He’ll leave. I don’t want him to leave.