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I thought I’d feel small and helpless, but I don’t. I feel invincible.

He moves with me like we're caught in a current, like we’ve both forgotten how to breathe anything but each other. Each movement sends new sparks through my body, lighting up nerves I didn’t know existed. My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the base of his spine. His cock is impossibly deep, stroking places that make me whimper and cry out.

The pleasure spirals higher and tighter, and he feels it. He drops a hand between us, his thumb finding the place he sucked before, and rubs fast circles on my clitoris. The double sensation—inside and outside—makes my body tense, every muscle drawn tight as a bowstring.

“It's happening again,” I whimper as the sky fractures behind my closed eyelids, a thousand stars bursting into liquid gold that cascades down my spine. My toes curl, my back arches off the bed, and I’m suspended between worlds.

His voice cuts through the roaring in my ears, rough and commanding. “Come for me, little one. I want to feel you melt around me, want to feel every tremor when you shatter.”

And I do. I come so hard that my vision goes dark. My body clamps down around him in rhythmic pulses that seem to originate from my very core, each contraction sending electric currents from my center to my fingertips. His name tears from my throat—raw, desperate, unrecognizable even to my own ears. A tidal wave of pleasure sweeps me up, tumbling me through sensations I've never known. Heat blooms across my chest, my toes curl until they cramp, my inner walls flutter wildly around his thickness.

Everett’s not far behind. He snarls into my neck, teeth grazing the tender skin where my pulse hammers frantically. His hips stutter in three final, brutal thrusts that seem to reach impossibly deeper. Every ridge of his shaft pulses against my sensitive flesh, and the hot rush of his release fills me in warm spurts. The sensation triggers another surge of bliss, this one deeper and more primal—a second wave crashing through me with such force that tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

He collapses onto me, bracing his weight on trembling forearms. For a long moment, we breathe, his heartbeat thundering against my breast, my fingers tracing the sweat-slick contours of his shoulder blades. The air around us smells of salt and musk and something indefinably human. He softens and slips out, leaving a warm trickle between my thighs.

Stroking my hair, Everett plants soft kisses on my forehead, cheeks, and mouth. “Are you okay?” he asks again, worry and pride tangled in his words.

I laugh a real, full-bodied laugh. “I’m more than okay.” I touch his face, trace the line of his jaw, the stubble that leaves my fingertips buzzing. “I’ve never… never felt anything like that.”

“Me neither,” he admits, nuzzling into my palm. “You own me, Ariel. I’ll never get enough of you.”

I believe him. I want to believe him forever.

We curl up together, tangled and spent, legs overlapping, his hand splayed over my belly as if he can’t bear to let go. I drift toward sleep with his warmth settling around me like a blanket.

Before I go under, he whispers, “I’ll never let you go. You’re mine now.”

And I know he’s right.

I’m his.

He’s mine.

I’m home.

Morning creeps in. Sunlight peeks through the edge of the blinds, bathing everything in a soft, diffused glow. I wake to the sound of Everett’s breath, the warmth of his arm draped over my waist, the impossible weight of blankets and bodies and all the newness pressing me into the mattress.

I keep my eyes closed for a long time, just breathing. The air smells like linen and sweat and the faint tang of yesterday’s rain. My thighs ache in ways I never imagined possible. I shift, feeling the sticky residue of last night between my legs, and flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

This is my body now. Not a vessel for gliding through water, but an anchor. I’m heavy, grounded, and impossibly alive.

Next to me, Everett mumbles something in his sleep and rolls closer, his chest to my shoulder, his arm tightening around me. I trace the line of his brow, the sweep of lashes, the stubble shadowing his chin. He flinches at my touch, then settles.

I let my fingers explore. The arch of his collarbone. The dip of his throat. The pulse at the base of his throat, strong and steady. His skin is warmer than mine. It radiates like sunlight caught in flesh. I drag my nails over his shoulder blade, learning the shape of him, and wonder how much I missed in my old life. How many kinds of warmth I never knew existed.

He stirs, mouth curving in a half-smile. “Good morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” I whisper, testing the word in this new context. It’s a softer thing, less urgent than waking underwater. There’s nowhere I need to be except right here.

He opens his eyes and blinks at me, green and gold and impossibly bright. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of my hair off my cheek.

“Better than okay,” I say, and it’s true. I’ve never felt so content. Or so exhausted.

He grins, wide and boyish. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I duck my head, unsure what to say. No one’s ever called me that before. “I’m still learning.”

He props himself up on an elbow, the sheet sliding down to reveal the line of his hip, the trail of hair leading lower. I try not to stare, but it’s like trying not to stare at a sunrise.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks gently.

I nestle into the crook of his arm, breathing in his scent. “How perfect everything is.”

I remember the weight of him inside me, the wild tumble of pleasure, the way my body took over until I couldn’t think.

He rolls on top of me, pinning me to the mattress, and the look in his eyes is pure mischief. “Want to stay here all day?” he asks, lowering his mouth to mine. “We can do whatever you want.”

I pretend to consider, but the truth is, there’s nowhere else I want to be. “Anything?” I tease.

“Anything,” he promises, kissing a path down my neck.

I sigh, content. “Then I want to stay right here with you.”