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He just smiled, a smug glint in his eyes, and kept going. His tongue circled my clit, slow at first, then faster. He slid two fingers inside, crooking them up to stroke that spot that made my whole body tighten.

"You taste like you belong to me," he growled, pulling back to watch me come undone.

I broke for him, shaking, crying out his name as I came hard against his mouth. He licked me through it, then crawled up my body, kissing me roughly, letting me taste myself on his tongue.

"I want you inside me," I said, voice shaking, "Now."

He lined himself up, rubbing the head of his cock through my slick, coating himself, teasing me with just the tip.

"This is different," he said, voice raw. "You feel it too?"

I nodded, too far gone for words. "Please. I need you."

He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch, filling me until there was nothing left but him—stretching, claiming, making me his. He held still, forehead pressed to mine, breath harsh against my cheek.

"You feel like home," he whispered, eyes on mine, like he needed me to know the truth.

Something in my chest shattered. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper, locking him in place.

"Move," I begged, nails raking down his back. "Show me. Make me yours. Completely."

He started to move, slow at first, deep and deliberate, every thrust sending sparks up my spine. He rolled his hips just right, grinding against my clit, making me whimper, desperate for more.

"Look at me," he demanded, hand on my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I want to see you when you fall apart."

He fucked me with purpose, hips snapping, cock dragging along every nerve ending. I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, body arching to take everything he gave.

"You’re mine," he gritted, snapping his hips harder. "Say it."

"Yours," I gasped, voice breaking. "Always. Only yours."

He slid a hand between us, thumb circling my clit in tight, fast strokes. My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, tearing through me, making my whole body clamp down around him.

"That’s it," he groaned, not slowing. "Come again. I want to feel you milk my cock."

He kept moving, pushing me higher, dragging out every aftershock. When he came, he buried himself deep, pulse throbbing, breath ragged in my ear as he spilled inside me.

He didn’t pull out right away. He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing hard, his weight pinning me down, anchoring me in the moment.

We lay tangled together, sweat cooling, hearts racing. I felt his fingers trace lazy circles on my belly, his other hand still tangled in my hair.

I let myself drift, sinking into the softness of his touch, the ache between my legs, the thick, pleasant soreness that said I’d been truly claimed.

He pressed a kiss to my temple, then another to my lips—gentle this time. "No regrets?"

I smiled, shaky and honest.

"None. Only that it took us so long to get here."

He rolled to his side, pulling me with him, our legs still tangled. I traced the lines of his chest, the scars and hard muscle, memorizing every detail.

"I want you here," he said, quiet but firm. "In this bed, every night. I want to wake up with you. I want everyone to know you’re mine."

My throat tightened. "You have me. All of me."

His eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw the fear beneath his confidence—the need.

"And you have me," he said. "Every broken, selfish piece."