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“Fuck. You’re soaked for me.”

I don’t answer. Honestly, what words could capture this? That I’ve been dripping for him in secret, soaking through panties and fantasies for weeks? That every filthy thought, every ache between my legs, spirals back to that night—his hands, his mouth—his thick cock burning me alive in a haze of sin I still crave? That I’m drowning in the memory of his touch, begging silently in the dark while pretending I’m cold?

That every time he so much as looked at me with that cocky, careless grin, I remembered exactly what his fingers felt like, what his mouth did to me?

Instead, I shut my mouth tight and kiss him harder, swallowing every shameless confession I can’t dare say aloud.

His fingers press inside me—one first, slow and deliberate. Then another, curling just right, squelching in and out like he already knows what my body wants before I ask for it.

“Greedy little thing,” he whispers, his mouth grazing my ear. “How many fingers does my girl need?”

That voice. That tone.

It slams me straight back to that night, masked — to the ache that split me wide open for a stranger I never forgot. “Yes,” I moan, hips grinding down against his hand.

“More.”

“I’ll give you more, sweetheart... Let go for me... That’s a good girl.” His laugh is low, dark—completely feral. “You’re perfectfor this cock.” “And — whoever the hellshethinks she is—she thought I’d want her instead.” His fingers curl and his thumb circles my clit faster.

“She’s wrong.”

I’m gone. Melting. Folding in on myself.

“Walk away from this?” He growls. “From you. You know why she was wrong?”

I grip his hair, helpless. The orgasm is already building in my spine like a tidal wave I can't outrun.

“Why?” I rasp.

He looks up at me, pupils blown wide, mouth slick from every kiss I keep giving him.

“Because you’re mine.”

That’s it.

That’s the line that tears me to shreds, unraveling me bit by bit.

My entire body seizes—cunt clenched, spine bowed, throat catching on the sob that rips out of me as the orgasm crashes through.

I fall into him.

Shaking. Spent. Silent.

And when I finally breathe again, I don’t feel cheap. I don’t feel stupid. I don’t feel used.

I feel wanted. Claimed.

Kept.

And God help me—

I let it happen.

Liam’s mouth is on mine again, and I let myself drown. In the kiss. The warmth. The lie.

My phone buzzes.

Once.