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“Fuck, this pussy feels extra wet,” he groaned as he bottomed out.

My nails raked down his back through his shirt. “I’m going to be your wife, Papa.” I wanted to feel what that phrase did to him while he was inside me.

He pulled out and flipped me around before I could catch my breath.

“Again.” He pushed back in from behind and the angle was deeper, hitting something that made my vision go spotty.

“Dez—”

SMACK.

His hand came down on my ass, and the sting went straight to my clit. I pushed back into him, meeting his stroke.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said, gripping my hip with one hand.

“I’m going to be your⁠—”

SMACK. The other cheek.

“I want Angie to hear you.”

“I’m gonna be your wife!” It came out raw and wrecked. For the first time, I wasn’t giving a performance. I was making a choice. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back.

“This shit mine,” he said, his free hand sliding around until his fingers found my clit. He started rubbing it while he kept stroking.

“Fuck! Yes, Papa.” There was no sarcasm, no edge. Just me completely surrendering to this man I’d stopped hating.

The combination of his dick and his fingers pushed me over the edge. I came so hard that I saw stars and my ears started ringing. My face hit the desk as my body seized and my walls clenched around him. I was making sounds that would’ve embarrassed me if I had any shame left.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he groaned. “My Beautiful Belle.”

He drove into me two more times before he came. I felt him pulsing inside me as his forehead dropped onto my back. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise and I hoped they did. I wanted the evidence on my skin tomorrow.

“We fucked up your desk,” I said, my cheek still pressed against the wood.

“It’s fine.”

“Your clothes are probably ruined.”

“I have extra in the closet.”

“Of course you do.” I tried to push myself up and my arms buckled. “I can’t move.”

“Good.” He kissed between my shoulder blades. “Stay right there.”

“Cardez—”

“For like ten more seconds.”

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, still inside me, and just held me there. His face pressed into my hair as he breathed me in. This—the after part—still caught me off guard. Sex I could compartmentalize. But the tenderness from a man who’d just fucked me over his desk and had me screaming loud enough for the whole office to hear was the part that kept disarming me.

I winced as he pulled out carefully before disappearing into the small bathroom in the corner. I turned around as he came back with a warm towel and leaned against the desk while he cleaned me up. He was gentle and thorough, focused like this was just as important as the sex. The way he could switch up so easily was why I loved him.

The realization hit me like an eighteen-wheeler.

Not catching feelings. Not falling. I was in love. With no more exit strategy because I was about to be legally bound to the nigga anyway.

“Fuck,” I said under my breath.