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I didn’t care.

Neither did she.

She bit my neck, teeth sinking in, and I growled against her throat. “Mine,” I groaned as I fucked her harder. “All fucking mine.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yours. Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I fucked her until she was trembling, until her thighs locked tight around me, until she shattered with a choked cry that I swallowed with my mouth.

I followed right after, burying myself deep and coming hard, groaning her name against her lips.

We stayed like that for a long moment, panting, tangled, the door still holding us up as my cum dripped down her thighs.

She laughed breathlessly against my neck, a soft, satisfied sound that went straight to my dick. “Told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

I kissed her slowly this time, lingering. “Good thing. I’m not done with you yet.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Take me home, cowboy.”

I grinned, lifting her off the door.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Sienna grabbed my hand the second we got through the front door.

“C’mon,” she said, already tugging me toward the stairs with an excitement that made me laugh under my breath.

“Baby,” I said as she hauled me upward, “you’re gonna pull a muscle if you keep trying to drag a grown man around this house.”

“You’re very dramatic for someone who can apparently carry dead weight over one shoulder.”

“That feels pointed.”

“It should.”

I let her pull me anyway, watching her over the curve of her shoulder while she hurried us upstairs. The porch light filtering through the downstairs windows faded behind us as we reached the second floor, warm lamplight spilling from our bedroom down the hallway.

She didn’t stop until we got inside. Then she turned toward me with a grin that immediately made me suspicious.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s the face you make right before you become a problem.”

Her grin widened. “Maybe I like being your problem.”

“You definitely like being my problem.”

She hummed in agreement, then slipped past me toward the closet before I could catch her. I leaned against the bedroom doorway and watched her crouch near the back corner, shoving aside a pair of boots before tugging out a cardboard box.

A shoebox.

I frowned. “What’s in there?”

Her confidence vanished almost instantly as she clutched the box against her chest before bringing it over to the bed. “Okay,” she said carefully, “before you judge me⁠—”

“Oh, this is already gonna be good.”