Page 51 of His to Hunt (The Owner’s Club #1)

And that's it. The final thread of my control snaps clean.

I hook my hands beneath her thighs and lift her in one fluid motion. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively as I pin her back against the tile. When I line myself up with her entrance, our eyes lock—a connection deeper than physical.

I slide inside her—slow, deliberate, savoring every inch—until I'm buried completely. So deep I swear I can feel her soul shudder against mine.

Her mouth parts on a gasp that's almost silent. Her eyes widen, pupils blown with pleasure and something that looks dangerously like devotion.

And nothing else matters. The world beyond this shower, beyond her body, might as well not exist .

I thrust again—measured, like I'm trying to memorize her from the inside out. The heat. The tightness. The way her pussy holds my cock like it never wants to release me.

Her hands find my shoulders, fingertips pressing into the muscle hard enough to leave marks. Paint smears under her nails, staining us both further. When her forehead drops against mine, I forget how to breathe.

"You feel it too, don't you?" I rasp, unable to keep the question contained. "This thing between us?"

She nods, the movement barely perceptible. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, lips trembling with unspoken confessions.

"Yes," she admits, voice barely audible over the water. "Every time you touch me."

I drive deeper, rolling my hips with a slowness that feels like worship. Her breath catches. Her thighs tighten around me.

"I'm not just inside you," I murmur, my voice cracking open with raw honesty. "I'm with you."

Her eyes flutter closed briefly, overwhelmed, but I can't let her retreat. Not now. Not when we're this vulnerable. This real.

"Look at me," I command softly.

She does. And fuck, I nearly come just from the expression in her eyes.

"You're not just sex to me, Luna," I confess. "You never were."

Her lips part, and I can feel her heart beating in perfect rhythm with mine—a synchronicity that defies explanation.

"I know," she whispers. "That's what scares me."

Instead of answering with words, I kiss her—not hard or demanding, but with a depth that speaks everything I'm not ready to say. All truth and tenderness and trembling need .

Her arms wrap tighter around my neck, legs locked at the small of my back, as I continue moving—deep, controlled thrusts that leave her gasping each time I fill her completely.

"You're so perfect like this," I praise against her lips. "So fucking beautiful falling apart in my arms."

She cries out—soft, broken.

When I feel her start to tremble again, when her fingers dig crescents into my shoulders and her hips begin to rock more insistently against mine?—

I hold her closer. Kiss her harder. And fuck her like nothing in the world could ever matter more than this moment, this connection, this woman.

Because right now? She's everything I never knew I needed.

She's trembling in my arms, back pressed against the cool tile, legs wrapped tight around my waist. Her eyes never leave mine, seeing the monster and somehow finding him worthy.

Her hands frame my face, fingers still stained with colors that refuse to wash away. I thrust into her with deliberate precision—deep, measured, worshipful. Like I have eternity to show her what she does to me. Like she isn't completely destroying me from the inside out.

Her breath catches with each thrust. Her body clenches around me. And I feel it building—that cliff I've pushed her toward before. But this time, I don't want to watch her fall alone.

"I've got you," I promise, voice rough with emotion. "Eyes on me, baby. Don't look away."

Her gaze holds mine—unwavering, vulnerable, filled with everything I've spent my life believing I didn't deserve.

I press deeper. Harder. But never rough. This isn't about dominance anymore.

This is surrender. On both our parts .

"You feel that?" I whisper, forehead pressed to hers. "That's us. You and me. There's nothing else."

Her nails dig into my shoulders. Her breath breaks on a gasp that sounds almost like my name.

"I can't—" she chokes out, body trembling. "I'm gonna?—"

"Let go." The words come out reverently. Wrecked. "Right here, Luna. While my cock is buried deep inside you. While you look at me like I'm the only man who's ever touched you."

And then—she does exactly that.

She comes undone in my arms, body seizing around me, lips parting on a cry that's half a sob. It's like watching stars collapse and form anew. Her head falls forward until our foreheads touch, and she whispers my name like a prayer meant only for my ears.

"Beckett..."

That's all it takes.

I thrust once more, twice, then bury myself deep—so deep it feels like we're carved from the same primal chaos—and I break apart.

"Fuck—Luna—" Her name tears from my throat as I spill inside her, emptying everything I am into the woman who somehow found what was worth keeping.

My whole body locks as I come harder than I ever have, a release that's more than physical—it's the collapse of every wall I've built since childhood.

Of pride. Of distance. Of the armor I forged around myself since before I can remember.

She undoes it all with her hands, her eyes, her heart.

I don't immediately move away. I stay joined with her, forehead pressed to hers, breath mingling as the water continues to cascade over us, washing away paint but leaving everything changed beneath .

She combs her fingers through my hair with gentle reverence.

"I've never felt like this before," she whispers, the confession barely audible over the spray.

I kiss her like I understand the magnitude of what she's given me. Like I feel exactly the same. Like I'll never be the same man I was before her.

"Mine," I murmur against her mouth, the word both possessive and a promise. "Even if the world burns for it."

And I mean every syllable.