Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The sound fractures the last of my control, ripping me open from the inside out. I give her everything I’ve been holding back. Every ounce of restraint, every piece of myself I swore I’d keep buried.
I thrust into her with a relentless, punishing pace, each stroke driving deeper until the shock of it reverberates through both of us. The slap of skin cracks through the air, it’s a harsh pace that drowns out everything else. Her head bumps the wall with every roll of my hips as her dark hair spills around her like a halo.
She continues to meet me, matching every movement, her body greedy for more. She clenches. It’s a slick claiming that feels less like motion and more like recognition. As if her body remembers me even when her mind tries not to.
Every contraction pulls me in deeper, tighter, until heat licks up my spine. Even when my muscles burn, the strain vibrating through my legs, I don’t stop. The room disappears, becoming nothing more than friction and sound. The wet slide of skin and the low grind of my voice against her ear.
I rest my forehead against hers, sweat sliding between us, our mouths a whisper apart.
I can’t stop.
Not when she’s wrapped around me like this, holding on as if letting go might break her in half.
“This isn’t just your body giving in,” I grind out as every thrust goes deeper, harder, turning ruthless. “It’s you, Rina. All of you. And I’m done letting you pretend otherwise.”
The command comes out like a vow.
It’s half threat, half confession.
Her moan is caught somewhere between protest and surrender as she arches into me, every shudder stripping away the distance she’s tried to keep between us.
Her body seizes, convulsing in greedy, involuntary waves that drag me straight over the edge with her.
It’s not just release.
It’s obliteration.
A white-hot detonation that rips through my soul until there’s nothing left.
I roar her name, spilling deep inside her, the burn of it searing through every nerve ending. She tightens, every muscle gripping me like a trap, and for a heartbeat the world explodes.
It’s the fierce, blinding joy of claiming what I already know is mine.
The aftershocks hit hard.
My hands lock around her as I ride them out, throat burning from the shout that tore free. She trembles beneath me, her pulse fluttering against my skin, and I know—whether she says it or buries it under a thousand denials—that she belongs to me.
The world fades beneath the sound of shallow pants and the faint drag of fabric against tile. Still joined, I slump forward until our foreheads meet, sweat slicking the fine line of her hair, the scent of her perfume clinging to me like a mark I’ll never wash away. My grip doesn’t loosen. The possessive hold is the only thing keeping me steady in the wreckage we’ve made.
Still buried deep inside her, I let the silence settle. It’s thick and charged, the kind that makes every sound feel louder than it actually is. The aftershocks roll through us in slow, uneven waves until there’s no way to deny what just happened.
There’s no pretending it can be undone.
I want her to sit in it.
To feel the truth of us in every inch of our skin still pressed together.
There’s no escaping this.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
“There’s no more running, Rina,” I rasp. “Tomorrow, we’re going to sit down and talk.” My tone drops lower. “But right now, I needed you to remember who you belong to. And we both know it’s not the guy out there. It’s me.”
The claim hangs heavy between us. It’s blunt, possessive, and impossible to take back. I want her to taste it in the air and know I mean it all.
Her lips part and her throat works around a reply that never comes. A tremor ghosts through her fingers, and I can see the battle still being waged in her eyes.
The urge to fight for control even though it’s already slipped away.
My hand trails up the curve of her hip, thumb brushing the hollow of her waist before sliding higher until I can cradle her cheek. Her skin is warm and damp beneath my palm. Her pupils are still wide and cheeks flushed with color. But it’s her eyes that undo me. They’re vulnerable and unguarded in a way I’ve never seen.
“You have feelings for me.” The statement is rough and certain, carved from a place I can’t hide. “Stop trying to deny it.”
She says nothing. Only blinks once as her throat works like she’s trying to swallow down the truth.
Even now, after everything that just happened, she won’t admit it out loud.
Not yet.
But it’s written in every look, every crack in her composure.
And it’s enough to keep me coming back.
The way her fingers bite into my shoulders says more than any confession ever could.