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“I want you.” Her confession strikes me at the core. A meteor to an ocean of gasoline. “I want you so much it hurts.”

Her hips roll into me again, and her whimper feeds the darkest parts of my soul. The parts that no longer care that I stole her for myself.

The part that knows I’d do it again.

I lift her off the wall, carrying her from the living room to our bedroom. Her body falls to the bed, and I chase her with my own, covering her and consuming her. She writhes beneath me as I catch her wrists between my hand, pinning them above her head as I explore her body with my other hand, kissing her into the abyss of delirium where I’ve been suffering alone for months.

I shove my hand beneath her shirt, beneath the cup of her bra to palm her breast. I pluck at the swollen bud of her nipple, grinning in pleasure when she moans into my mouth.

I devour every sound she makes as I move from her breast, down the smooth, soft skin of her belly, to the band of her leggings. I trace it with my fingertips, reveling in the way her stomach twitches beneath my touch.

I swallow down each quivering breath she dares to breathe, kissing her harder as I sink my hand into her pants.

It’s my turn to groan when I find the treasure of warm, wet heat between her legs. I circle her clit with my finger slowly, noting the way her thighs try to close around me.

She wrenches her mouth from mine to suck in gulps of air. “Please⁠—”

“Please, what?” I taunt darkly, hypnotized by the lust in her expression.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more decadent sight in all my life.

“Please, Tate.”

I stroke her with two fingers, grinning roguishly now. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

“I—”

I slide two fingers into her as I press the pad of my thumb into the button of her clit, entranced as she throws her head back, biting into her lower lip. I fuck her with my fingers until her body starts to shake and she’s no longer able to bite back her moans.

When I feel her cusping the edge, I release her hands to tug her pants down and off.

“Wh—” She lifts her head, those fuck-me eyes hooded with need.

“I want to taste you.”

Her eyes widen, but before she can protest, I’ve replaced my thumb with my mouth. A small scream tears from between her lips as she falls back against the pillow again—her hands fisting the sheets as her heels press into the mattress—as though she might be able to escape me.

That isn’t happening. Not now that I finally have her like this, spread before me—her taste on my tongue.

I pump her faster with my fingers, alternating between stroking her clit with my tongue and sucking it between my teeth until she’s trembling violently beneath me.

“Tate—” she cries my name as she comes undone around my fingers and on my tongue.

I rise over her, my hands moving to the hem of her shirt, shoving that up and over her head. Her bra hits the floor next, and I sit back between her legs to marvel at the wonder of her finally naked beneath me.

A blush blooms in her cheeks, and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, her eyes glistening with arousal.

“What are you doing?” Her words are soft, hesitant—but she doesn’t try to hide herself from me.

I love that she doesn’t.

“Looking at you,” I manage to grate around the rough rocks of emotion and lust in my throat.

“Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful. And you’re mine.”

Her eyes don’t leave mine as she asks, “Do I get to look at you?”