One slow, overwhelming thrust that stole the air from my lungs. My nails dug into his back on instinct, a broken cry slipping from my throat.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, arching into him.
His head dropped to my shoulder, lips parting against my skin as a deep groan tore out of him. It came from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, voice rough and reverent all at once.
He didn’t move right away. He stayed there, buried deep, letting the moment stretch until I could barely breathe, grinding slowly like he was settling into something familiar… like home.
“I’m going to try to be gentle, Trouble,” he whispered against my ear. “But you’ve gotta tell me if I hurt you, okay? Because I love you… But fuck, I want you to feel like I don’t.”
His hips rolled, slow and heavy.
“You feel fucking perfect. You.” Thrust. “Are.”Thrust.“Mine.”Thrust.
Each movement carried more force, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm.
He kissed my mouth, my breasts, my shoulders—anywhere he could reach, he pressed his lips there, like he couldn’t help himself. My legs locked tight around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
We tried to stay quiet, swallowing each other’s sounds, breathing each other in. But a rough groan tore out of him, loud enough that I clapped a hand over his mouth without thinking.
His tongue slid against my palm, teasing, and I grimaced.
He laughed—actually laughed—low and wicked against my skin.
His hips snapped into mine harder, faster, our bodies slick with sweat, rhythm turning urgent.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, already losing control.
I cried out as he picked up the pace, grunting into my mouth, one hand sliding to my throat while the other pressed between us, thumb moving in tight circles against my clit that made my whole body shake.
He watched me the entire time. His eyes locked on mine, drinking in every reaction, like he was witnessing something sacred. And then it hit me. I tightened around him, the release crashing through me without warning.
His eyes widened, a flash of surprise breaking through the hunger.
“Fuck… I can feel it,” he breathed, voice rough.
My legs locked tighter around his waist as I went over the edge. It was so strong I felt it everywhere. The release rolled down my spine, behind my eyes, sparking through every nerve in my body.
Then, I felt the exact second he started to lose control. His rhythm was stuttering, his breath uneven, his pupils blown wide. He was close. Too close.
Not happening.
Not today.
He wasn’t going to get his release until I said so.
I flipped us with a strained breath, wincing at his weight for half a second before he shifted with me, letting it happen, letting me take over.
Max barely had time to react before I was straddling him, palms planted on his chest as I drove my hips down.
The sound he made—half groan, half broken moan—punched the air from his lungs like I’d just wrecked him completely as I slid down, taking his entire size inside of me.
His hands shot to my thighs, trying to take back control, but I slapped them away.
“No,” I panted, grinding down against him, watching his eyes roll back. “You said you’re mine. Then let me show you what that means. You don’t get to cum until I say you can.”
I needed this. I needed to take back my agency, and he knew it.
