Nyx didn't rush the reveal. He drew the straps down Rowan's shoulders slowly, deliberately, watching as the cups peeled away from skin.
The heavy 38-inch breasts spilled free, full, round, gravity pulling them slightly to the sides now that they were unsupported.
Pale skin flushed pink from arousal, veins faintly visible under the surface. And the areolas, soft, rosy pink, slightly puffy, nipples already tight and peaked from the cool air and earlier teasing.
Nyx froze. His breath caught audibly.
He stared, openly, shamelessly, like he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. The obsession that always simmered under his skin flared bright and hot in his eyes.
"Fuck…" The word slipped out on a reverent exhale. "Look at you."
Rowan tried to turn her face away again, cheeks burning crimson, one arm instinctively moving to cover herself.
Nyx caught her wrist mid-motion, gentle but unyielding, and pinned it beside Rowan's head. "Don't," he whispered, voice rough with awe. "Don't hide them. Not from me."
He leaned down slowly. His mouth hovered just above one breast, close enough that Rowan could feel the heat of his breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Then he closed the distance.
Lips brushed the areola first, soft, almost worshipful, before his tongue flicked out, circling the tight peak once, twice.
Rowan's back arched off the seat on a sharp gasp, hips jerking up involuntarily.
Nyx moaned low in his throat at the reaction.
He took the nipple fully into his mouth then, sucking slow and deep, tongue laving over it in firm, rhythmic strokes.
His free hand cupped the other breast, thumb brushing back and forth over the neglected nipple, rolling it gently between fingers until it hardened even more under his touch.
Rowan's hands flew to Nyx's bare back, nails digging into smooth, powerful muscle.
Nyx switched sides, mouth moving to the other breast, giving it the same slow, thorough attention. Teeth grazed the areola lightly, just enough to sting, then soothed with soft licks.
All the while his hips kept rocking in slow, torturous circles, the friction building between them until both were breathing in harsh, broken pants.
When he finally lifted his head, lips swollen and glistening, he looked down at Rowan with something raw and unguarded.
"You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, voice cracking. "I could spend forever just like this... just looking at you. Touching you. Making you feel how much I need you."
Rowan's eyes were wet again, tears of overwhelm, of surrender, of everything she'd tried to bury.
She reached up, fingers threading into Nyx's dark hair, pulling him down until their foreheads touched. "Then don't stop," Rowan whispered, barely audible, but clear. "Not tonight."
Nyx's smile was small, trembling, triumphant.
He kissed Rowan once, deep, claiming, then went back to her breasts, mouth and hands worshipping every inch like it was sacred.
The car stayed dark. The world outside stayed forgotten. And inside, they burned.
Nyx lifted his head from Rowan's breast just long enough to crash their mouths together again. This kiss was different, brutal, claiming, teeth clashing before lips even fully met.
Nyx's tongue pushed in without asking, stroking deep and possessive, tasting every corner like he owned it. Rowan moaned into it involuntarily, the sound swallowed by Nyx's mouth.
Then the bite. Nyx caught Rowan's bottom lip between his teeth, harder than before.
Not playful. Not teasing.
A deliberate, sharp clamp that made Rowan gasp and jerk beneath him.
Pain bloomed bright and hot, followed instantly by the wet slide of Nyx's tongue soothing the sting.
Rowan's hands flew up, palms pressing against Nyx's broad shoulders. "Nyx... stop, that hurts..."
Nyx didn't stop. He bit harder. Teeth sinking deeper into the plush flesh of Rowan's lip until copper bloomed faintly on his tongue.
Rowan whimpered, half protest, half something darker, and Nyx finally released, licking over the swollen, reddened spot like an apology that wasn't sorry at all.
"Mine," Nyx growled against her mouth, voice low and wrecked. "Say it."
Rowan shook her head weakly, eyes glassy. "I can't..."
Nyx cut her off by dipping lower again. His mouth closed over one still-sensitive nipple, already swollen from earlier attention, and he bit down.
Not gently. Hard enough to make Rowan's entire body arch off the flat seat, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.
"Nyx... fuck... stop..."
But Nyx only hummed in response, the vibration traveling straight through the tender peak.
Then his fingers found the other nipple, pinching it between thumb and forefinger, rolling it harshly, tugging outward until the skin stretched taut and pink.
Rowan's hips bucked wildly, thighs clenching around Nyx's waist, torn between pulling away and grinding closer.
Tears pricked at the corners of Rowan's eyes again, not from pain alone, but from the overwhelming mix of it all: the sting, the heat, the way her body betrayed her with every rough touch.
Nyx released the nipple with a wet pop, only to drag his open mouth downward, kissing, sucking, biting a slow, deliberate path across Rowan's upper body.
First the soft swell at the top of one breast: he latched on, sucking hard until the skin bloomed dark red under his lips. A perfect, oval hickey, deep purple already forming at the edges.
Then the valley between them: another mark, teeth grazing first, then suction pulling blood to the surface until it stood out stark against pale skin.
Across the collarbone, left side, then right: Nyx left a constellation of bruises, each one darker than the last. He bit down on the delicate skin just above the bone, holding the pressure until Rowan whimpered again, then soothed it with slow laps of his tongue.
Down the sternum, between Rowan's heaving breasts: one final, brutal hickey right over her racing heart, as if marking the organ itself.
Every mark was deliberate. Possessive. Visible. Rowan would see them tomorrow, dark fingerprints of ownership blooming across her chest, her throat, her collarbones.
No hiding them under scrubs or blouses. Not completely.
When Nyx finally lifted his head, lips swollen and glistening, he stared down at his work with raw satisfaction.
"Look what I did to you," he whispered, thumb tracing the edge of the freshest hickey, already purpling.
"Everyone's gonna know. That lawyer? Your colleagues? My fucking family? They'll see these and know you're taken."
Rowan's chest rose and fell in harsh pants. Her hands, shaking, slid up Nyx's bare back, nails dragging lightly over skin in retaliation, leaving faint red lines.
"You're insane," Rowan rasped, voice wrecked.
Nyx leaned down until their noses brushed.
"Yeah," he murmured, lips ghosting over one of the fresh marks. "But I'm your insane."
He kissed the hickey softly, almost tenderly, then nipped it again, drawing another broken sound from Rowan.
The car was thick with heat now, windows completely fogged, the scent of sex and sweat hanging heavy in the air.
Rowan's resistance had crumbled into something quieter, surrender wrapped in aftershocks.
"You're covered in me," Nyx whispered, voice hoarse and reverent. He traced one fresh hickey with a fingertip, feeling the raised heat, the slight throb beneath.
"Every time you look in a mirror tomorrow… every time your bra rubs against these… you'll feel me. You'll remember who you belong to."
Rowan's eyes were glassy, tears clinging to her lashes. Her body trembled, overstimulated, aching, dripping.
One hand reached up, fingers threading weakly into Nyx's hair, pulling him down until their foreheads touched.
"Fuck you," Rowan breathed, raw, wrecked, no heat behind it.
Nyx smiled against her lips, slow, dangerous, triumphant.
"Already am, Doc."
He kissed her again, slow this time, deep and filthy, while his hand drifted lower, slow, deliberate, fingers trailing fire across the fever-hot skin of Rowan's stomach.
The muscles there jumped under his touch, contracting in tiny, helpless spasms. Rowan's breath hitched audibly when those same fingers reached the waistband of her slacks.
No hesitation.
Nyx popped the button with a soft snap, the sound unnaturally loud in the thick, humid air of the car.
The metal tab gave way easily, fabric parting. Then the zipper: metal teeth parting one by one with a slow, rasping zzzzzip that made Rowan's thighs tense and tremble.
The sound dragged on, obscene in its patience, until the fly gaped open completely.
Black lace panties peeked out, simple, practical, already darkened at the center from how long they'd been soaked. The fabric clung transparently to swollen, sensitive flesh beneath, outlining every curve, every ridge.
Nyx exhaled shakily at the sight.
He dipped his head without a word. Lips brushed the thin lace first, soft, reverent, then pressed harder.
A slow, open-mouthed kiss right over the dampest part. Rowan's hips jerked upward on instinct, a choked whimper escaping her as Nyx's tongue flicked out through the fabric, tasting salt and musk and pure, desperate arousal.
The wet heat of Nyx's mouth seeped through the lace, making everything slicker, hotter, more unbearable.
Rowan's hands flew to Nyx's hair, fingers knotting tight, not sure if she was pulling him closer or trying to stop him.
Nyx didn't give her time to decide.
He lifted his head just enough to return to Rowan's breast, mouth closing over the still-throbbing nipple he'd bitten earlier.
The peak was swollen now, dark pink and glistening from saliva. Nyx sucked it deep, hard, rhythmic pulls that matched the frantic beat of Rowan's heart.
Teeth grazed the sensitive areola again, then clamped lightly around the nipple itself, tugging outward in short, sharp pulses.
At the exact same moment, Nyx's free hand slid down between them. Palm flat. Pressed. Hard.
He cupped Rowan's mound through the soaked panties, fingers splaying wide to cover every inch, heel of his hand grinding firmly against the swollen clit beneath the lace.
No teasing circles. No gentle strokes. Just unrelenting, possessive pressure, palm rocking in slow, deep circles that dragged friction over the most sensitive bundle of nerves.
Rowan's entire body seized. A raw, guttural sound tore from her throat, half sob, half moan, as her hips bucked helplessly into Nyx's hand.
The lace rasped against oversensitive skin with every grind, the wet fabric sliding and clinging, amplifying every sensation until it bordered on too much.
Heat radiated from Nyx's palm like a brand; the pressure was merciless, pinning Rowan's arousal in place while his mouth continued its ruthless assault on the nipple, sucking, biting, laving in perfect, punishing rhythm.
Sweat beaded along Rowan's collarbones, trickling down between her breasts to pool in the hollow of her throat.
The car smelled overwhelmingly of them now: sex, leather, the sharp tang of arousal so thick it coated the tongue with every ragged inhale.
Every breath Rowan took came in short, desperate pants; every exhale ended in a broken whimper.
Nyx lifted his mouth from the nipple with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting his lips to the glistening peak for a heartbeat before snapping.
He looked up, eyes black with obsession, lips swollen and shiny.
"You're dripping for me," he whispered, voice wrecked and reverent. His palm pressed harder, grinding in a slow, deliberate circle that made Rowan's thighs shake violently.
"Feel that? That's mine. This..." another grind, firmer, heel digging right against her clit "...is mine."
Rowan's head fell back against the seat with a dull thud. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, tracking hot paths down her temples into her hair.
Her hips rolled upward in helpless little jerks, chasing the pressure, chasing release, chasing anything to ease the unbearable coil tightening low in her belly.
"Please..." The word cracked out of her, raw and unrecognizable.
Nyx's smile was slow. Dangerous. Tender in its cruelty.
"Please what, Doc?" he murmured against Rowan's breast, tongue flicking the abused nipple once more.
"Please stop? Please harder?" His palm rocked again, deep, possessive grind. "Tell me."
Rowan's answer was a shattered moan.
She didn't say stop. She didn't say anything coherent.
She just arched, body strung tight, trembling, and let Nyx take her apart. Piece by trembling piece.
Nyx's palm stayed pressed hard over Rowan's mound, grinding in those slow, merciless circles through the drenched lace, until Rowan's hips stuttered in frantic, helpless bucks.
The fabric was soaked now, slick and clinging, every ridge of Nyx's fingers visible through the sheer material. Heat pulsed under his hand like a second heartbeat, Rowan's arousal dripping hot and sticky, the musky scent flooding the car's leather-confined air, thick, heady, mingled with sweat-slick skin.
Nyx's eyes darkened, obsessive fire flaring brighter.
Without warning, his fingers hooked the panty's edge. He slid inside, slow, deliberate, the lace dragging aside with a wet schlick.
Skin met skin.