Sebastian
She sleeps curled into my chest, soft and warm, her breath a steady rhythm against my skin. The city glows beyond the glass wall, dawn creeping over the skyline, but I don’t move.
I don’t want to.
For years, I’ve woken in beds warmed by bodies I didn’t care to remember. Models, heiresses, socialites, all of them perfect in their own polished ways, all of them forgettable the moment the door closed behind them.
But Caitlyn Murphy?
She’s unforgettable.
Even now, wrecked and marked, she clings to me as though her body knows what her mind hasn’t yet accepted, that she belongs here, in my arms, in my bed, in my life.
Mine.
The word hums in my blood, violent and certain.
I stroke a hand down her back, savoring the way she shivers even in sleep. Her skin is still flushed from the night’s ruin, her thighs sticky with my release. I should feel sated, but I don’t. The hunger gnaws, sharper than before, demanding more.
She stirs, eyelashes fluttering, and lifts her head to blink at me. Her hair is a tangle, her lips kiss-swollen, her voice a husky rasp. “What time is it?”
“Too early,” I murmur, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Go back to sleep.”
Instead, she shifts against me, the movement sliding her soft body along my cock. I grit my teeth, groaning low in my throat.
“Sebastian,” she whispers, cheeks heating as she realizes what she’s done.
I roll her onto her back in one smooth motion, pinning her with my weight. “Do you feel what you do to me?” My cock presses hard against her stomach, thick and unyielding. “One night, and I’m mad for you.”
Her breath stutters. “I thought you’d be… done. Satisfied.”
“Never.” I kiss her fiercely, devouring her mouth. “You think I could ever get enough of you? You think I’ll let you walk out of here like nothing happened?”
Her eyes widen, lips parting on a protest, but I cut it off with another kiss, softer this time. My hand slides down her thigh, lifting it to hook around my hip, opening her for me. She’s sore, tender, but when I rub against her slit, she’s already wet again.
“Fuck,” I groan, dragging my cock along her slick folds. “You’re perfect. Always ready for me.”
“Sebastian—” Her voice breaks on my name, half plea, half warning.
I push inside slowly, stretching her again, watching her expression transform from surprise to helpless need. Her gasp shreds what little control I have left.
I bottom out, buried to the hilt, and her body clenches around me in greedy welcome. My vision blurs at the edges.
“Mine,” I growl, setting a steady rhythm, rolling my hips deep. “Every inch of you. Every sound, every heartbeat. It’s all mine.”
Her nails rake down my back, her moans filling the room, and I know I’ll never tire of this. Of her.
I take her harder, faster, pounding into her until the headboard rattles against the wall.
She cries out, arching beneath me, sweat slicking her skin.
Her breasts bounce with every thrust, nipples peaked and begging for my mouth.
I take one between my lips, biting gently before sucking hard enough to make her scream.
“You’ll carry me inside you all day,” I snarl against her chest, grinding deeper. “Every step you take, you’ll feel me. You’ll know you belong to me.”
“Yes,” she sobs, trembling beneath me. “Yours.”
Her admission detonates in my chest. I drive harder, chasing her climax, determined to wring every ounce of surrender from her body.
“Come for me,” I order, thumb circling her clit as I pound into her. “Come on my cock. Show me you’re mine.”
Her scream is raw, unrestrained, as her body clamps around me. She convulses, clenching so tightly it rips my release from me in a violent cry. I spill inside her, grinding deeper, holding her hips still so she takes every drop.
We collapse together, sweat-slick and shaking. I keep her pinned beneath me, still buried inside, unwilling to let go. She trembles, clinging to me, eyes dazed and wet.
“Breathe,” I murmur against her ear. “That’s it. Good girl.”
Her shiver tells me the praise wrecks her as much as the sex.
For a long moment, the only sounds are our ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city waking below. I should feel satisfied. Instead, my mind is already turning.
She can’t walk out of here.
She doesn’t belong in that lab, surrounded by plants and obscurity. She belongs here. With me. In my bed. In my world.
But my world is dangerous. The men in that ballroom last night; their smiles, their masks, their whispered threats, they’d devour her if they realized what she means to me.
Which means I have two choices.
Hide her. Or own her so completely that no one dares touch her.
I press a kiss to her damp temple, my arm locking tighter around her. “Sleep now,” I whisper, though my own mind is wide awake, plotting.
Because I already know which choice I’ll make.
Caitlyn Murphy will never leave me.
And God help anyone who tries to take her away.