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But he wasn’t done.

He sat back, grabbed her by the waist, and flipped her over like she weighed nothing. She landed on her stomach with a gasp. He pulled her hips up, arched her back perfectly, and drove back into her from behind.

Her scream was muffled into the sheets as his swollen girth plunged even deeper in this position. His hands gripped her hips tight, holding her still as he fucked her hard and fast, balls slapping against her soaked core.

He leaned over, one hand grabbing her hair, yanking her head back. His lips found her neck—biting, licking, sucking as he pounded into her from behind.

“This is mine,” he growled into her ear. “You understand? You. This body. Every cry that leaves your mouth—it’s all mine.”

“Yes,” she sobbed.

He groaned and pushed her down against the bed, mounting her fully now—his weight pressing into her back, drilling into her from behind with brutal force.

Her body began to tremble again, another orgasm building fast, feral, out of control.

He reached around her, fingers finding her clit, rubbing it viciously while his rod dragged her open from behind. She screamed his name again, louder this time, as she came violently around him—her walls clenching and pulsing, milking him.

And he couldn’t hold back.

With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep, guttural groan. Hot, thick ropes of cum spilled inside her, filling her up as his body trembled above hers.

They collapsed together—sweaty, tangled, panting.

But even then, Lorenzo didn’t let go. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, still buried inside her, holding her tight like he never wanted her to leave.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered into her neck. “You’re mine. Forever.”

Krystal was still panting beneath him, her body boneless, soaked in sweat, her thighs trembling, and her lower body leaking with both of their releases.

But Lorenzo didn’t move.

He stayed pressed against her back, thick rod still inside her, lips grazing her ear as he whispered, voice calm… but dark.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “You’ve been driving me out of my mind for months... and now, you need to be punished for it.”

Krystal whimpered.

He slowly pulled out of her, her soaked walls clinging to him as he slid free with a slick sound that made her moan. Then he rose from the bed and stepped away, leaving her there for a heartbeat—exposed, used, wrecked.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered sharply.

She blinked, dazed. “W–what?”

Lorenzo’s voice was firm, commanding. “Get on your knees. Hands on the headboard. Don’t make me say it twice.”

Something in his tone made her shiver.

She obeyed slowly, turning and positioning herself at the head of the bed, kneeling, arms extended, her back facing him, hands resting on the top bar of the headboard. Her chest lifted, breasts swaying with every breath, and her thighs parted just enough to expose her again—exactly the way he wanted.

He returned with something in his hand.

A silk necktie—dark, smooth, and dangerous in his fingers.

“I told you you’re mine,” he said, walking behind her. “Now I’m going to make sure you remember it.”

Krystal’s breath caught as he gently took her wrists and tied them together with the silk, securing her hands to theheadboard’s top rail. The fabric wasn’t tight enough to hurt—but enough to make her powerless. Vulnerable.

Then she felt the heat of his body press against her back, his breath warm against her shoulder.