He leaned in, his lips inches from mine, and whispered,
"Then why does it feel like everything?"
Before I could respond, he crushed his mouth to mine.
The kiss was fire, raw, consuming, the kind of kiss that stripped logic and left nothing but want behind. My hands found his chest, fingers gripping his shirt like I needed something to hold onto or I'd fall into him completely. Maybe I already had.
He backed me toward the wall, one hand tangled in my hair, the other sliding down to my waist. His body pinned me in place, and I didn't resist. I didn't want to.
I gasped against his lips as he rolled his hips into me. I could feel how hard he was. Thick. Ready. And all for me.
"Say it," he breathed against my mouth, his hand sliding beneath my hoodie, fingers brushing bare skin. "Say you want this."
"I want you," I whispered. "Now."
That was all it took.
He yanked my hoodie off, his hands exploring every inch of exposed skin like he needed to memorize me. My nipples hardened beneath the lace of my bra, and when his mouth found them, I arched off the wall with a moan.
He lifted me, hands firm under my thighs, and carried me to the bed without breaking the kiss. I tugged at his shirt, needing it gone. When it hit the floor, my breath caught. Broad, hard chest. Caramel skin. Scars that told stories I wanted to hear with my lips.
He kissed down my stomach, slow and deliberate, peeling off my leggings like I was something precious. His eyes locked with mine before he dipped his head between my thighs.
"Fuck," I gasped, gripping the sheets.
His tongue was a weapon, skilled, relentless. He knew exactly what he was doing. He held my hips down as I writhed, his tongue circling my clit until I shattered, crying out his name, legs trembling.
But he wasn't done.
He kissed his way back up, licking the taste of me off his lips as he undid his pants. His cock sprang free, thick, veined, and achingly hard. My mouth watered at the sight of it.
"Condom?" I asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," he said, sliding one on fast, then pressing the head of his cock against me.
"Ready?"
"Please."
He pushed in, slow and deep. My nails sank into his back, breath catching as he filled me inch by inch. I felt so full. So completely undone.
He moved, hard, deep thrusts that knocked the air from my lungs. Every stroke hit that perfect spot, every grunt in my ear lit me up like a live wire.
"Mine," he growled, his hand slipping under my thigh to go deeper. "You feel like fucking heaven."
My back arched, another orgasm building fast. "Don't stop."
His thumb found my clit and that was it, I came with a cry, pulsing around him as he followed with a loud, guttural groan, spilling into the condom, buried deep.
He collapsed beside me, dragging me into his arms, both of us drenched in sweat and silence. His heartbeat thundered against my cheek.
I didn't say anything.
Neither did he.
But we both knew this changed everything.
---
Our bodies were still tangled in the sheets, skin slick with sweat, heartbeats gradually slowing, but the fire hadn't gone out—not even close. He rolled to his side, brushed his knuckles gently down my thigh, then without a word, scooped me into his arms.
"Where are we going?" I murmured, dazed.
"To clean you up. Then mess you up again."
His voice was low, sinful, and delicious. I didn't argue.
The bathroom was marble and gold, luxurious and softly lit. He sat me on the counter, turned on the tap to fill the large soaking tub. The room smelled like him, leather, spice, and heat.
He peeled the condom off and discarded it, then gently cleaned between my thighs, his touch almost reverent now. I reached for a cloth and wiped him too, smiling when his cock twitched against my palm.
"You're insatiable," I teased.
He leaned down, his lips brushing my neck. "Only for you."
He stepped into the tub first, pulling me in after him. Warm water enveloped us. I sank into his chest, my back against him, legs draped over his. His hands roamed slowly under the water, fingertips teasing my inner thighs again.
I shifted slightly, grinding against him. He groaned.
"You really want to do this again?" he rasped.
I reached back and cupped him under the water. "What do you think?"
That was all he needed.
He turned me to face him, lifting me with a grip on my waist. My legs wrapped around him as he slid inside again. The water sloshed around us, but I didn't care. My arms looped around his neck, lips crashing into his, our bodies moving like we'd done this forever.
Every thrust made water splash over the edges of the tub. He fucked me like he owned me, harder this time, deeper, like he was trying to erase all the time we'd lost.
I moaned into his mouth, my head falling back as he gripped my ass, lifting and dropping me on his cock in wet, delicious strokes.
"Say it," he growled into my throat. "Say you're mine."
I whimpered, the orgasm clawing its way through me. "I'm yours. Fuck, Michael, I'm yours."
He groaned into my neck as he came, his body trembling beneath mine.
We stayed like that in the water for a while, skin pressed to skin, hearts slowly steadying. Then he helped me out of the tub, dried me off with the same tenderness that wrecked me all over again, and handed me my clothes.
I dressed in silence, heart pounding.
I walked toward the door.
But just before I could open it, he grabbed my hand, spun me around, and pulled me in.
One last kiss.
Soft. Sure. Final—but not goodbye.
He leaned down, lips brushing my ear.
"If you think after this I'll ever let you go, you're joking. You're mine, and your fight… is my fight."
He kissed my forehead, then released me.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, fingers curling tighter around the door handle.
Then I walked out into the night.
And my heartbeat was louder than it had ever been.