She looks dazed, sated, still panting. "You… you really don't do anything halfway, do you?"
I smile, slow and quiet. "Not with you."
She looks at me, eyes hooded, a faint smirk playing at her mouth. "Then, Colonel," she murmurs, fingertips sliding down my chest, "you should also do something about this."
Her hand finds me hard and straining against the fabric of my pants. The moment she touches me, I hiss through my teeth. My hand shoots out to brace against the counter beside her hip, eyes shutting for a breath I can't fully take.
"Sage…"
I'm holding by a thread.
She rubs over the ridge of me again. "You have permission to wreck me… sir," she whispers.
That does it.
I reach for her, one arm wrapping behind her lower back, the other hooking behind her knee as I pull her closer to the edge of the counter. Her legs fall open for me like a bloom, still slick, shivering from what just happened.
I kiss her. Deep, anchoring, claiming.
With her thighs bracketing me, I unbuckle my belt, watching her face as I free myself from my pants. Her eyes dip down. The way she bites her lip when she sees me makes something inside me snap taut. But I don't rush.
I line myself up, dragging the head of my cock through her folds once—enough to make her jolt, to tease both of us. She's wet, warm, and open. It would be so easy to give in. But I keep my control.
"I'm not going to fuck you fast," I murmur, voice rough. "I want you to feel every inch."
She nods, breath shaky. "Please."
And I press in. Slowly. Controlled.
I watch her fall apart inch by inch as I fill her. Her hands grip my arms, nails digging into muscle, her mouth parting with a soft sound that lands somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
"You feel so…" she gasps. "Fuck…"
"I know."
I still when I'm fully seated inside her, both of us breathing heavy. Her walls flutter around me like she's already close again. I brace my hands on the counter, framing her in place, and start to move.
Each thrust is deliberate and deep.
She wraps her legs around me tighter, and I lean in, pressing kisses along her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. Her hands trail over my back, anchoring herself as I keep going—controlled, relentless, perfectly measured to keep her climbing.
Her moans rise in pitch, hips rocking into mine.
"Asher—"
"I've got you," I murmur into her skin.
She tenses. Eyes flutter shut. Her whole body tightens around me as another orgasmic wave takes her, louder this time, less restrained.
That's when I let go.
I thrust harder, chasing the edge that's been waiting since I tasted her essence. It crashes into me fast, violent in its intensity, and I bury my face in her neck as I come, spilling into her with a low, guttural groan.
We stay like that for a long moment—bodies locked, breath ragged. Eventually, I pull back just enough to look at her. She's flushed and glowing. Her fingers stroke my cheek like she can't quite believe I'm real.
I rest my forehead against hers.
"I've fought wars with less effort than it takes to hold back around you," I murmur.
