I reach for her. My hand slides up her throat, thumb tipping her chin back, forcing her to meet my eyes. "I've got you. I'mgoing to fuck you now." I'm as wrecked as she is, but I keep my voice steady. "I'm going to fill you until you can't remember a time without me inside you. And then I'm going to knot you, Sharma. I'm going to lock us together so deep you'll feel me for days."
She whimpers, her body swaying into mine. "You don't get to—this doesn't fix—"
"Nothing's fixed," I agree, and my other hand finds her waist, yanking her flush against me so she can feel how hard I am, how ready, how completely undone she's made me despite every pact, every promise, every wall. "This is just the beginning. Just the bond. Just us. We'll work everything else out later. When we can fucking breathe."
I take her mouth.
The kiss isn't gentle. It's a claiming, teeth and tongue and the taste of her—cinnamon sugar and the sharp tang of heat. She claws at my shoulders, fingers digging into muscle, arching into me with a desperation that mirrors my own. I don't just kiss her. I consume her, bending her back over my arm, swallowing every gasp, every protest, turning them into moans that roll through me, straight to my gut. She's never been kissed like this. I can feel it in the stunned, frozen hitch of her breath before she melts, before her lips part wider and her tongue timidly meets mine.
My hands tear at her clothes. The tank top rips. I don't care. The bra comes next, snapped open, gone. The linen pants slide down her hips, pooling at her feet, along with her panties. She's bare, just glistening dark skin and the delirium-inducing scent of slick.
She trembles as I look at her, really look, mapping the territory I've dreamed of since she walked into the rehearsal dinner.
"Fuck," I breathe, reverent. "Look at you."
"Don't look," she gasps, trying to cover herself, embarrassment and arousal warring in the set of her jaw. "I'm—I've never—"
"I know." I capture her wrists, pinning them behind her back with one hand. The posture thrusts her breasts forward, dark and perfect, nipples drawn tight with arousal and fear and the cool air between us. "I know, baby girl. I've got you."
I don't rush to her cunt. Not yet. I want her shattered before I ever touch her there.
I dip my head, closing my mouth around one tight peak. She cries out, a sharp, broken sound that echoes off the walls, her whole body snapping against me. She's sensitive, so sensitive that the first pull of my tongue has her knees buckling. I suck hard, rolling the other nipple between my thumb and forefinger, pinching just enough to make her sob. She thrashes in my grip, but I hold her wrists trapped, controlling her, using my body to keep her upright while I feast on her breasts.
I switch sides, lavishing the neglected peak with wet heat, nipping with my teeth until she's chanting my name, breathless and raw. Her hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, and I press my thigh between hers, letting her grind against the rough fabric of my shorts. She's soaking my leg, leaving a slick trail, humping me like an animal while I mark her dark skin with bruising kisses and reddened, swollen nipples.
"Please," she whines, the word tearing out of her. "Please, I can't—"
"You can," I growl against the valley of her breasts, licking the sweat gathering there. "You're going to take everything I give you. Every touch. Every filthy thing I've imagined doing to this perfect body." I look up, meeting her glazed eyes. "Tell me you want it."
She shakes her head, stubborn, her lower lip trembling. "I don't—"
I bite down on the underside of her breast, not hard enough to break, hard enough to brand, and she screams, a sound of pure, shocked pleasure. "Liar. Your cunt is dripping down my leg. Your body doesn't lie, Sharma. Even when you do."
I lift her. She weighs nothing, or maybe I'm beyond feeling weight, beyond anything but the imperative to make her come apart. I carry her to the bed, lay her down on the white duvet, spreading her out like a feast. She tries to close her legs, instinctive modesty, and I stop her, hands on her knees, pressing her open until she's completely exposed to me.
"Look at how wet you are for me," I say, voice guttural, barely human. "Look at this pussy, Sharma. It knows. Your body knows what you won't admit."
She turns her head away, jaw tight, gaze averted, but her hips lift, offering. Begging.
I settle between her thighs, shouldering them wider, and breathe her in. The scent is intoxicating—slick heat, need, *her*.I run my nose up her inner thigh, scraping my stubbled jaw against the delicate skin, feeling her quiver.
"Roan," she breathes, and there's real panic there now, the control freak realizing she's pinned, vulnerable, about to lose the last of her defenses. "What are you—"
"I'm going to eat you," I tell her, looking up her body, meeting her terrified, aroused eyes. "I'm going to put my mouth on your pretty little cunt and lick you until you forget your own name. Until the only word you know is mine."
She whimpers, hands flying to my hair, uncertain whether to push me away or pull me closer.
I drag my tongue through her folds in one long, filthy stroke.
The sound she makes is inhuman—a sob, a scream, a prayer. Her back arches off the bed, her heels digging into my shoulders, and I hold her hips down with both hands, pinning her to the mattress while I feast. She tastes like liquid sugar and salt, like surrender. I lick into her, pointed and relentless, fucking her with my tongue, learning the shape of her, the flutter of her entrance. She's drenched, my chin shining with her arousal, and I groan against her, letting the vibration roll through her sensitive flesh.
"Oh God, oh God—" she chants, thrashing, pulling my hair hard enough to sting. "It's too much, it's—"
It's not enough. I flatten my tongue against her clit, lapping in slow, torturous circles, feeling it swell against my mouth. Her thighs tense, shaking on either side of my head. I keep herspread wide, refusing to let her hide from the pleasure, from the intimacy of my mouth owning her most private place. I suck the hardened nub between my lips, flicking it rapidly, and her cries turn desperate, broken.
I add a finger, sliding one thick digit into her tight, untouched heat. She's burning velvet, gripping me instantly, and the thought that my cock will soon be there nearly undoes me. I curl my finger, finding the rough patch inside her that makes her freeze, then shatter.
"There?" I growl against her pussy, the word muffled, hot.
