I didn't rush. I let her breathe, let her melt against me, let the bond simmer low and hot, crackling beneath her skin like it was waiting for me to strike. She thought it was over. Thought she was finished. Thought she'd been unraveled enough. Poor, sweet Annie. She had no idea. I rolled her onto her back again, stretching above her like a lazy predator. Not pinning. Not forcing. Just there. Unmovable. Inevitable. She blinked up at me, dazed and fragile, green little shoots trembling just beneath the surface. I smiled slow. Dangerous.
"You're not done, darling," I murmured, dragging a finger down her sternum, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. "Not even close."
The bond flared at my touch, sharp and electric. She whimpered, small and unwilling. Perfect. I lowered my mouth to her ear. "This time," I whispered, my breath hot against her skin, "you don't get to finish until I say so." A tremor through the bond, green. "Good girl," I murmured, and the thread sang.
Her whole body tensed, pride, instinct, training screaming against what she wanted. I felt every flicker of it. Delicious. I kissed the corner of her mouth, slow and coaxing, while my hand drifted lower. Over her ribs. Down her stomach. Pausing just above the delicate heat between her thighs. Teasing. Withholding. She squirmed, breath catching, and I grinned against her skin.
"Feel it," I ordered softly. "All of it. Don't hide from me."
My fingers brushed her clit, barely there, a ghost of pressure, a promise. Her hips bucked instinctively, chasing it. So I pulled away. Chuckling low against her throat. "Uh-uh," I murmured. "Not yet."
She groaned, desperate and broken, and the bond sang with it. Raw. Honest. Hers. I sat back on my heels, dragged her hips into my lap with casual dominance, spreading her across me. Her slick heat pressed against the hard line of my cock, soaking through the last barrier of fabric until I was ruined for anything but her. My hands stroked her trembling thighs, coaxing, claiming, keeping her right on the edge. Every time she climbed close, every time she started to quake, I denied her. Pulled back. Left her empty. Light touches. Soft kisses. A whispered good girl against her skin. Never enough. The bond snapped tighter and tighter, tension stretching hot, sharp, unbearable. She panted, helpless, nails clawing furrows into the sheets. Her body was begging, writhing, her wetness dripping down her thighs, smearing onto me. Gods, I could smell her need, taste it in the air, thick and intoxicating.
I laughed softly. Wicked. Adoring. "You're so close," I whispered, kissing her trembling knee. "So pretty when you break."
She tried to glare at me. It was pathetic. Adorable. I kissed her hipbone. The crease of her thigh. Soft. Soft. Soft. Then, hard. I bit down on the inside of her thigh, sucking until she jolted, until her cry split the air. The pleasure and pain slammed into me through the bond, and I groaned against her skin, grinding into the sheets for relief. She sobbed my name, desperate, high, broken. I pulled back again, lips glistening, smirk wicked.
"No," I said sweetly. "Not yet."
Her eyes glossed with tears. Not fear. Not pain. Need. Pure, blistering need. And gods, I loved her for it. I bent low, kissed higher and higher, savoring her trembling. Her thighs clenched around my head, trapping me, and I licked a slow stripe up her slick folds without mercy. She convulsed, a helpless whimper tearing from her throat.
"You want to come so badly," I whispered against her, my tongue flicking her clit just once before pulling away. She sobbed. I kissed the slick heat of her again, gentle, reverent. "You feel like you're going to break."
Another kiss, higher, open-mouthed, filthy. "You can't hold it anymore, can you?"
She shook her head, tiny and broken, a tear sliding down her temple. I groaned, kissed the tear reverently, then sank two fingers inside her. Her heat gripped me instantly, wet and tight, clenching as if her body didn't want to let me go.
"One more time," I ordered, voice ruined. "Hold it. For me." She whimpered, but nodded. Desperate to obey. I curled my fingers just right, stroking her inside walls until she was trembling, my palm pressing mercilessly against her clit. She arched off the bed, a scream tearing from her throat, raw and feral, nails raking bloody lines across my shoulders. The bond roared, flooding me with every pulse, every quake, every shattered nerve.
"Now," I growled into her mouth, swallowing her cries. "Come for me, Annie."
And she did. She shattered, violently, utterly, her climax detonating through her body, through the bond, through me so brutal it ripped the breath from my chest. I felt every spasm, every convulsion of her body milking my fingers, every broken sob in my mouth. I held her through it, anchored her, whispered worship against her skin until she collapsed, limp and wrecked in my arms. She had bloomed for me. Beautiful. Wild. Mine. The gods help anyone who tried to chain her again. Because in that moment, something inside me broke too.
Her climax tore through more than her body, it ripped through her walls, through the training, through the lies. What came out was raw truth. Surrender. Trust. Want. And it stripped me bare. I growled low, flipped her onto my lap before I could think, clutching her like I'd never get enough. She gasped, still wrecked, but the bond flared bright, greedy, hungry. More. It screamed between us. More. Now.
I didn't tease. Didn't play. I drove into her in one desperate thrust, burying myself to the hilt. We both cried out. Her body clamped down around me, scorching, perfect, and my own shudder slammed back into her through the bond. She could feel my pleasure, the raw shock of how tight, how wet, how perfect she was around me. I could feel hers, her body stretching, yielding, taking all of me. It looped endlessly, her pleasure feeding mine, mine crashing back into her. Faster. Harder. Hotter. I buried my face against her throat, panting, thrusting into her like I needed her to live. Because I did. She clung to me, nails raking down my back, anchoring me while drowning in me. Our bond blazed golden, holy, unrelenting. Every groan, every cry, every ragged thrust tangled us tighter until there was nothing left but one truth. No walls. No pretending. Just us.
She rode me back, hips meeting mine with every ounce of strength she had left. Her nails scored red streaks down my shoulders, medals of survival. I bit down on her shoulder, hard enough to mark, to claim, and the bond ripped wide open. Her climax hit like fire through dry tinder, violent and consuming, dragging me down with her until I shattered inside her. But it wasn't enough. Couldn't be. I drove into her harder, faster, chasing the next high, dragging her with me. The loop of sensation was endless, destructive, exquisite. She broke again. And again. And again. Pleasure blurred into pain. Pain blurred into hunger. Hunger blurred into something I didn't dare name, something bigger, deeper, unstoppable.
When we finally collapsed, bodies trembling, lungs burning, neither of us could move. I pulled her against me anyway, cradling her, rocking her faintly, pressing soft kisses into her hair. Sweat slicked our skin, the sheets damp beneath us. My chest heaved, but I held her like she was the only thing keeping me alive.
The bond purred between us, molten, sated, wrecked. She clung to me, twitching with aftershocks, shuddering in the aftermath. I closed my eyes, inhaling her. Her scent. Her taste. Her truth. I didn't need to speak. The bond spoke for me: Mine. Yours. Ours. Forever.
Silence stretched thick between us. Not heavy. Not anymore. She studied me, looking for the trick, the lie, the hidden edge. But there was nothing left to hide. Not after what we'd just survived. At last, she sighed, soft and tired, and rested her head back on my chest. I kissed her hair, pulled her closer.
"Rest," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
The bond pulsed steady, warm and golden, wrapping around us like a second heartbeat. I could tell, I believed it. So did she.
I shifted, slow and careful, tugging the sheets up around us, cocooning her in warmth. Her skin was damp, slick with sweat and release, and I smoothed my hand down her back, chasing away the shivers. She made a small sound when I kissed her temple, more vulnerable than anything else she'd given me tonight.
"Shhh, love," I whispered, brushing her hair from her face. "You did beautifully."
Her eyes fluttered shut, but the bond whispered back for her—sated, heavy, safe. I reached for the basin Arbor set glowing at the bedside, conjured cloth warm as summer air. Gently, reverently, I cleaned the sweat and stickiness from her thighs, my touch unhurried. She stirred once, trying to murmur protest, but I caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.
"Let me," I said softly. "You gave me everything. Let me take care of you now."
She didn't argue again. She let me. That, more than any climax, undid me.
When she was tucked against me again, clean, warm, utterly spent, I threaded my fingers through hers and rested them over my heart. The bond thrummed, calm now, a golden hum of belonging. Her breathing slowed, matched mine, until sleep claimed her.
And I lay awake, holding her, knowing the chaos had burned itself into something terrifyingly simple: I would never let her go.