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I am nothing but hers in this moment. A body built to give her what she needs, exactly how she asks for it.

And God, I love it.

I love giving her this. Love watching her claim it. Love the way her body answers mine like she’s finally done denying herself anything that feels good.

Her head falls forward, then back, long brown hair swishing over her spine as she trembles beneath me. I shift my hips, finding the angle that makes her cry out sharper, and her whole body tightens. My zipper scrapes red marks against her skin.

There.

I know it the second I find it.

Her elbows shake against the tailgate. Her thighs tense. Her breath breaks into little gasps that make my vision blur at the edges. Heat coils through my back, down my spine, straight through my cock, but I hold on.

I dig into her hips, leaving red marks I already want to kiss better. I lift her slightly, changing the angle, letting myself sink deeper. Her feet leave the ground, and the little break in her voice nearly ends me.

Yes, baby.

You can take it.

She proves it with every plea, every arch of her back, every tight clench around me.

Her body starts to shake, fluttering around me, and I press her closer to the edge of the tailgate, giving her the friction she needs as I drive into her again.

And again.

And again.

“Leon,” she cries, my name breaking apart in her mouth.

Then she shatters.

Her climax tears through her, body clenching around me so hard my restraint snaps with it. I bury myself deep, holding her tight as my release hits, violent and blinding, every muscle in my body locking as I pour myself into the condom.

Her cries echo into the starry night, mixing with my ragged breath, with the faint creak of the truck, with the impossible truth of her in my arms.

Clair.

Mine.

Chosen.

Loved.

I stay there, collapsed over her, my chest pressed to her back, my face resting against the stars inked down her spine. My breathing matches hers in rough, uneven pulls. Neither of us moves.

I couldn’t if I tried.

For a while, there is nothing but the night, the truck beneath us, and her body warm under mine.

“I love you,” she says, voice raspy and wrecked. “Thank you for this.”

I would give her anything. Soft. Hard. Quiet. Wild. Whatever she needs. Whatever she wants.

Forever.

Under the stars.

TWENTY-EIGHT