Page 47

“Lean forward,” he orders, voice hoarse.

I do, bracing my hands on the counter and tilting my hips toward him, and he slides in. One long, slow thrust that has both of us moaning. I clench around him automatically, and his fingers dig into my hips like he’s barely holding on.

“Fucking hell, Zo,” he pants, his head falling forward. “You feel unreal like this. So fucking wet, so warm. Taking me raw like you’re made for it.”

I moan, eyes fluttering closed for half a second.

“No,” he rasps. “Eyes up.”

Opening my eyes, I watch as he sets a perfect rhythm, each thrust slamming into the deepest part of me. His hand slides up to cup my breast, thumb flicking over my piercing, while his other hand snakes around to my clit, stroking fast and filthy.

My reflection is wild—sweat-slicked, flushed, mouth open in a silent moan.

“You see that?” he grits. “That’s what you look like when you’re mine. No one else gets this, baby. No one else gets to touch you, no one else gets to see you fall apart. This?” His palm drags up over my bare stomach. “This is all mine.”

I whimper, my hands gripping the counter harder. His hand slips back to my pussy and slaps me once—right on my clit, the wet sound echoing in the room.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“Oh, you loved that,” he rasps.

He does it again, tapping with his fingers against the wetness.

I shudder, tilting my head back. “God, yes, I love it.”

His hand slides up, fingers curling around my neck.

“You wanna know what this pussy looks like wrapped around me?” he breathes, watching the mirror. “Because I can fucking see it. You’re swallowing me, Zo. You own me.”

Another thrust, another slap. The rhythm starts to melt together, every move of his hips punctuated by praise or pressure or the slap of his palm. Every inch of him buries deeper, trying to replace what fear hollowed out.

“Look at you, baby. Look what only I get.”

I lift my eyes again, and I see it. His body flush behind mine, eyes locked on me like he’s never seen anything so fucking beautiful.

He groans, his mouth finding my shoulder, then the curve of my neck, then the space just under my ear.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll worship this body every goddamn day if you let me.”

His fingers drag down, slick with my arousal, circling my clit and slapping it until I’m shivering in his arms.

“Look at yourself,” he whispers. “Look how good you take me, like a fucking queen.”

“Chase—” I gasp, hips jerking.

“I’ve got you, baby. Come for me.”

It crashes through me, body arching as a broken sob rips from my throat. My legs go weak and my hands tremble, and still he doesn’t stop. He holds me up and fucks me through it, whispering things I don’t even register until the aftershocks fade.

“Good girl.”

“My girl.”

“Mine.”

And then he’s gone, too. His thrusts stutter, arms tighten, and he comes with a guttural moan that starts low and ends in a reverent curse, holding me so tight I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

“Fuck, Zo. You feel so good. So full of me.”

We stay there like that for a moment, his chest pressed to my back. His hand spread low across my belly and cock still inside me, twitching with aftershocks.

Eventually, he eases out, hands still on me like he doesn’t want to lose contact. He drops to one knee behind me, thumbs gently parting me as he watches his cum drip down the inside of my thighs.

“Look at that,” he whispers. “That’s mine, too.”

I shiver under his gaze, so hungry and possessive.

He grabs a towel and gently wipes between my thighs, pressing a kiss to the back of my knee as he does.

Then he straightens, wraps me in his arms again, and rests his chin on my shoulder, both of us watching our reflection.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

I nod, but this time there’s a crack in it. My chest aches, and my throat’s tight.

“You fucked the anxiety out of me,” I joke, but it’s brittle. I swallow. “Made me feel safe.”

His eyes soften, and he kisses my temple on instinct. We make it back to bed without saying much, and he pulls me down with him, curling around me with one arm thrown over my waist like he needs to keep me close. His breath is uneven, skin still damp, his heart hammering against my spine.

I let myself sink into him, without any tension or sass.

“Still okay?” he murmurs again, voice rough against the back of my neck.

I nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“That was…”

“Yeah,” I echo, smiling into the pillow. “I don’t think there’s a word for what that was.”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder and lets his lips linger there.

“Too much?” he asks, quieter now.

I twist just enough to glance over my shoulder. “Chase.”

His eyes meet mine, bleary and gentle.

“If it was too much, I’d tell you,” I say, voice soft. “I’d ruin your life with safe words if I had to.”

He huffs a laugh, but the relief behind it makes my chest tighten. I turn back into him, pulling his arm tighter around me.

“And for the record,” I murmur, “if I die, that’s how I wanna go.”

He groans, burying his face in my hair.

“Don’t say that,” he mumbles. “I’m still recovering.”

“You’re the one who spanked my pussy into another dimension.”

“I blacked out somewhere around the second slap.”

“You kept slapping.”

“I couldn’t stop.” He kisses the back of my neck again. “You were too perfect.”

My heart flips. I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing. I just reach down, tangle my fingers with his, and hold them there against my stomach. His thumb strokes across my skin.

“Zo, I… I…” he whispers, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

But I feel it in every inch of my body. It terrifies me, and there’s no way I’m going to ask him to finish his words when I know I can’t say them back, not yet.

So instead, I press his hand tighter to me in answer, and he pulls me closer, like he already knows.

And for the first time since the message, I feel warm again.