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I could feel every inch of him stretching me out, filling me up in a way that was both painful and pleasurable. Each thrust hit that perfect spot inside me, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over me.

"You feel so good," I moaned, my fingers digging into the minimal leverage against the boards as I tried to hold on.

He growled in response, his hips moving faster and harder. "You're going to come for me, Iris. You're going to come all over my cock."

His words sent me spiraling, my body trembling as I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the tension building inside me, coiling like a spring ready to snap.

"Oh God," I whimpered.

He grunted, his own release building as he drove into me one last time. "Fuck, Iris. You're perfect. Perfect, so goddamn perfect. And mine. Come for me."

His words echoed in my mind as I felt myself building up, spiraling higher and higher. My body trembled with anticipation, every nerve on edge. I could feel the pressure building inside me, coiling like a spring ready to snap.

"Fuck, milk me, Iris. Let me come in that tight pussy of yours."

A wave of pleasure crashed over me, sending sparks shooting through my body. My muscles clenched around him, milking him just like he had asked. It was as if every nerve ending in my body was alight with electricity, and I couldn't help but cry out in ecstasy.

He groaned, his grip on my hips tightening as he thrust into me one last time. I could feel the hot heat of his release shooting deep inside of me, filling me up in a way that was both intense and satisfying.

For a moment, we were both lost in the aftermath of our orgasms. Our breaths came in ragged gasps, and our bodies trembled with the remnants of pleasure. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, matching the rhythm of my own.

Slowly, we came back down to earth. He pulled out of me, and I could feel the emptiness left behind. My legs were shaky, and I had to lean against the boards for support.

He turned me around, his eyes dark and intense as he looked at me. Without saying a word, he leaned in and kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth as if he couldn't get enough of me.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look me in the eye. The intensity in his gaze sent a thrill down my spine, mixing with the remnants of pleasure still coursing through my veins. My heart raced, but there was something deeper than adrenaline—something primal that demanded acknowledgment.

And then he did it.

He leaned in again, his mouth brushing against my skin as he sucked a mark into my neck—deep, dark, impossible to miss.

I gasped, the sharpness of the sensation mingling with a heady rush of desire and fear. It felt both possessive and intoxicating, branding me in a way that made it clear I belonged to him.

“Mine,” he growled against my skin, his breath hot and ragged.

As he stepped back, breathless himself, I instinctively touched the mark with trembling fingers. Heat pooled in my stomach at the realization of what it meant. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment or reckless abandon; this was a claim—a declaration that reverberated through every fiber of my being.

I was his now.

Whether anyone saw it or not, didn’t matter; this mark was proof of our connection—raw and undeniable.

The thrill coursing through me made it hard to think straight as conflicting emotions swirled inside.

On one hand, there was exhilaration; on the other, an undercurrent of panic about what this meant for me—my future, my career, everything I had worked so hard for.

But standing there with him—this powerful man who had taken me in every sense—I felt alive like never before. There was danger in it all, yes, but there was also freedom in knowing that I had given myself completely to him.

I wanted to push back against the anxiety tightening in my chest; I wanted to revel in this moment instead. Yet each heartbeat reminded me of what I stood to lose if anyone found out—the whispers at practice from teammates if they saw the evidence on my skin would be relentless.

And still… I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

Knox brushed my hair back, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. The way he caressed the hickey on my neck sent a rush of heat coursing through me, an undeniable thrill that mingled with the pulse of anxiety thrumming beneath my skin.

His thumb grazed the mark, and I couldn’t help but shiver at the possessiveness wrapped up in that simple touch. It felt like he was claiming me, marking me as his—an intimate promise and a warning all at once.

But there was tension in his jaw, tight and unyielding.

I could see it in the way he held himself, muscles coiled as if ready to spring.

He knew what this was doing to us, how we were spiraling into something reckless and dangerous.

I could feel it too; it hung between us like a storm cloud, heavy with unsaid words and looming consequences.

We both understood this wouldn’t end well.

Yet neither of us could pull away.

The air crackled with electricity as our eyes locked, an unspoken agreement hanging between us—a pact sealed in passion and urgency.

I wanted to break free from the reality creeping in around the edges of our moment, but there was no escaping the truth that pressed against my chest like a vice.

We were walking a tightrope, balancing on the edge of desire and destruction.

Knox’s gaze flickered down to my lips, and before I knew it, he closed the distance between us again.

This kiss wasn’t soft or sweet; it was hungry and demanding, as if he were trying to consume every piece of me.

My heart raced as I melted into him, feeling all rational thought slip away like ice under fire.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back with equal fervor. The world outside faded—the rink’s cold walls, the lingering scent of sweat—it all disappeared until there was nothing but us.

And yet beneath the exhilaration lay a thread of dread. What were we doing? How long could we keep this up? But for now, those thoughts were drowned out by the pounding of my heart and the need burning within me.

This felt too good to stop—too right despite everything wrong about it.