Page 138 of The Sin Binders Ascent

I cry out again, louder now. His words shoot straight through me. He’s not letting up. He slams into me again, faster now, and I swear I go blind for a second.

“I’m going to come,” I choke out, the words ripped from my throat like confession, like prayer. “I’m, ”

“Do it,” he growls, teeth scraping my neck. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm hits me hard, violent and hot, bursting through me in waves. My body arches under him, thighs locking around his waist as I shudder, pulsing around him, crying out his name again and again as my world narrows to just this. Justhim. Just this impossible moment.

He doesn’t let me come down easy. He fucks me through it, harder now, chasing his own release, sweat dripping from his temple to mine, his mouth crashing into mine as he groans, low and broken.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hips stuttering, “I’m gonna, Luna, ”

He buries himself deep one last time, his body going taut above me, and then he’s coming, hot and thick and perfect, every muscle in him drawn tight as he groans into my neck. His hands grip my hips like they’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

For a long second, we don’t move.

His weight on me. My heart pounding so hard I feel it in my teeth. Rain still pounding the rocks just beyond our shelter like the world forgot it’s not supposed to feel this good.

He breathes against my skin, rough and slow, and I can’t stop shaking.

I should be ashamed. I should feel wrecked or empty or guilty. But instead, I feel full.

Full of him. Of something real. Something alive in a world that’s spent every second trying to make me forget what that feels like.

I let my fingers slide up his back, still trembling, still aching.

And I whisper, “Don’t move. Not yet.”

Theo

The rain has stopped. Not faded, not softened, just stopped. One blink, and the world around us goes dry like it never happened. The trees are still dripping, moss heavy with leftover water, but the sky is sharp again. Too bright. Too wrong.

She’s already thirty paces ahead, cutting through waist-high underbrush that hisses when her boots crush it, like the plants are alive enough to protest. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw is locked from behind. She hasn’t looked at me once since she woke up.

Not when I handed her water.

Not when I helped her wrap her ankle again.

Not even when I said her name.

I could lie and say I don’t know what this is. That I’m confused, frustrated, wounded. But the truth is, I knew this would happen. I knew the moment I pushed into her, felt her body take me like it had been waiting years for that moment, that it was going to cost me. Desire always does.

But I thought maybe, maybe, she’d let it change things. That after, she wouldn’t pull away like I’d dragged something holy out of her and defiled it.

She thinks she betrayed them. That’s the poison coiled behind her eyes this morning. Not regret. Not doubt. Just guilt. Thatold, suffocating weight that makes people rewrite history to survive it.

She keeps moving like something is chasing her. No strategy. No pace. She’s not even checking the trees anymore, and we’ve seen what lives up there. Last week, something dropped from the canopy with three mouths and no eyes and tried to chew through her ribs. That was the night I slept sitting up, knife in hand, because I knew she wouldn’t sleep unless I was between her and the branches.

Now? She doesn’t want me between her and anything.

I catch up with her just as she pushes through a patch of claw-vine, the thorns slicing shallow lines down her arm. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t curse. Just pushes forward like bleeding’s easier than thinking.

“Luna,” I say, low, because I know yelling won’t work.

She doesn’t stop.

“Luna.”

Still nothing.