Page 107 of Unrequited

God, I love when he calls me that.

So I wait.

I count. Ten. Fifty. Two hundred. Three hundred.

The storm outside rages, rain slamming the glass, thunder shaking the sky, but inside, it’s still warm. Still him. Still us.

Then he appears in the doorway.

“Still here, my love?”

His voice sends a shiver through me.

I nod.

“Spread your legs again,” he says, rough now, full of hunger.

“Seamus, sir, please…”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growls. “I love to hear you beg.”

He drops to the floor again and licks me with purpose, his tongue flicking just where I crave it.

I cry out, my hips lifting off the bed like I’ve been shocked.

I want him.

I need him.

“Tell me you want me,” he says, low and commanding, his lips brushing against my thigh like a brand. It’s not a question, it’s a demand. A dark, brutal need.

“I want you,” I whisper, broken open. “God, I want you so bad.”

He exhales, slow and heavy, like he’s been holding his breath underwater. He reaches up, and his hand finds my throat, not choking, not tight, just resting. Possessive.

A reminder.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “This body. This mouth. This fucking sweetness between your legs. Mine.”

I nod frantically, my eyes wide, panting. “Yes, sir. I’m yours.”

“Say it again,” he commands, his palm tightening slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who's in control.

“I’m yours,” I say louder, trembling. “Every inch. Every part of me.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Now you can come.” He slides his tongue lazily over my clit.

The permission crashes into me like a wave breaking against stone.

I come undone.

The orgasm tears through me, wild and punishing. It doesn’t ask, it takes. My body bows against the restraints, my muscles seizing and my vision going white at the edges.

He watches the whole thing, still worshipping me between my legs, like this moment belongs to him.

It does.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, moving up and brushing a kiss over my temple. “So fucking beautiful when you break for me.”