Chapter Thirteen #3
I let her feel the tip, a slow, agonizing slide of friction, before I pull back.
Over and over again, I tease the edge of her, making her wait, making us both suffer.
My cock is screaming to be buried inside her, to finally end the ache, but I’m not giving in.
Not yet. Until she claims me, until she says the words out loud, this is as far as we go.
I need her to fucking claim me.
She’s fast. Before I can even register the shift, she’s lunging upward, and I lose my leverage.
She hitches her legs around my waist, centering herself until I’m notched perfectly at the entrance of her heat.
Marigold’s fingers tangle in my hair beneath the edge of the mask, yanking my head up until our lips are a hair’s breadth apart.
“Mine,” she snarls, the word a jagged, beautiful threat. “You’re fucking mine.”
She slams herself down onto my cock, the impact driving a ragged groan out of me as I fall back onto my calves.
She sinks her teeth deep into the cord of my neck, marking me with a violence that matches the way she starts to ride.
Goddamn, does she ride. She slides up, milking every inch of the friction, before slamming back down with a wicked, grinding twirl of her hips.
My head is spinning. Her slick is glistening along the base of my cock, a visual that sends a spike of adrenaline through my gut.
Some half-formed thought flickers at the back of my mind, but before it can take root, she slams down again and the world goes red.
Having finally had enough of the barrier, she yanks the mask off my face with a growl. “Mine.”
“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, the cool air hitting my sweat-soaked skin. “I’m yours, baby. Every goddamn inch. Just like you’re mine.”
“Yes, yes,” she pants, her breath hot against my mouth. “Yours. All yours.”
Hearing her finally say the words, finally surrendering the lie she kept between us, turns me feral.
I don’t just want her. I need to consume her. I yank her off my dick and haul us both to our feet, my muscles screaming. I wrap a hand around her throat, not to hurt, but to anchor her as I crash my mouth against hers.
And then we fight. Lips, teeth, and four years of accumulated wanting, neither of us willing to lose, neither of us trying to end it.
I pull back just enough to trail my mouth over the curve of her jaw, down to that vulnerable dip between her neck and collarbone.
I bite down, sucking the skin into my mouth until she’s moaning, her body rubbing frantically against mine.
When I let her go, a dark, blossoming bruise is already forming with my mark.
A wicked grin curls my lips. “No denying it now, baby.”
I see the flicker of a fight starting in her eyes, so I don’t give her the chance. I spin her around, facing her toward the velvet couch, and bend her over until her face is pressed to the cushions and her ass is offered up to the light.
The sound of my palm connecting with that bouncy, perfect cheek echoes through the room like a gunshot.
She wiggles, her body begging for the sting, so I line up with her entrance and crack my palm against the other side at the exact moment I slam back into her.
My fingers dig into the bone of her hips, anchoring myself as I power into her.
Our skin slapping together is the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard.
I want to record it, to loop it and listen to it every night I’m away from her.
My thrusts are brutal, a physical exorcism of four years of pent-up sexual frustration, four years of wanting to do exactly this.
“You’re fucking mine,” I snarl, my hips snapping with every word.
She lifts her head, her knees finding the cushion as she raises her torso. She reaches back, her arm hooking around my neck to pull me closer. Her breasts are heavy and heaving, her back set in a delicious, agonizing arch that keeps her snug against me.
“Yes.”
“Say it,” I demand, my pace becoming a blur.
“I’m yours.”
“Whose?”
“Yours,” she cries, the word breaking.
“What.” Thrust. “Is.” Thrust. “My.” Thrust. “Name.”
“Tomcat.”
“Again.”
“Axton.”
“Again. Who the fuck do you belong to?”
“You. Axton Rhodes. Tomcat!” she screams, her entire body beginning to vibrate with the force of her come.
“That’s right, baby,” I croon, the anger melting into a dark, possessive heat as I lean down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the mark I just left on her neck.
“Mine.”
I pull out of her, the sound of it slick and wet in the quiet room. I swing her around, tossing her onto the velvet cushions of the couch before climbing over her, pinning her down as I slide back home.
“And who do I belong to?”
Tears are pouring from her eyes now from the sheer, overwhelming weight of the truth. My strokes are gentle this time. Slow. Agonizingly deliberate.
“Who do I belong to, little shadow?” I lean down, following the salt-trail of her tears with my mouth, tasting her surrender.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s time to leave the shadows and love me in the light.
” I kiss her softly, our tongues twining together in an intricate, desperate dance of worship.
“Tell me, beautiful. Who do I belong to?”
“Me,” she sobs, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “You belong to me. You’re mine. All mine.”
“Good girl,” I purr.
Her pussy convulses around me at the praise, a tight, rhythmic thank-you that sends a surge of heat straight to my skull.
I pull out nearly all the way before slamming back in, the impact rattling both of us.
For hours, I fuck my woman. I claim every inch of her in ways I’ve been denied for the last four years.
I eventually lean back against the cushions, my hand wrapped firm around her throat as she takes the lead, riding me with a frantic, beautiful energy.
Her breasts bounce, decorated with the dark love bites I’ve left behind, a roadmap of my hunger that tempts me to lean in and take them again.
“Just like that, Goldie. Ride my cock. Fuck, yes. Such a good girl.”
She tosses her head back, her hand drifting up to cover mine around her throat, twining our fingers together as she anchors herself. “Mine,” she murmurs, her eyes snapping open to lock onto mine with a terrifying clarity.
“Yours. Always, baby. Just as you’re mine.”
A happy, jagged smile breaks across her face as she grabs her knife from… fucking somewhere. Who the hell knows where she keeps her steel, but it’s there. She doesn't stop moving, her hips still driving against me as she flicks the blade open and brings the cold tip to the center of my chest.
“Do it. Mark me, baby,” I growl, fucking up into her to meet the steel. “I trust you.”
She moves the tip of the blade across my skin until she reaches the space directly over my heart.
I let out a low, guttural groan, my cock twitching inside her as she pierces the first thin layer.
Marigold’s eyes fill with a liquid, dark heat as her hand moves in jagged directions.
The burn is incredible. It’s a streak of white-hot fire that sends delicious thrills straight to my groin.
As much as I want to pound into her, I hold myself steady because I want her to finish. I want whatever she's writing.
"So pretty," she croons, and leans down and drags her tongue across the cuts. "Mine."
I glance down at my chest. My throat tightens. Her name is written in crude, jagged letters across my heart.
With a roar, I yank her to me and slam my mouth against hers, ravaging her as I send us both crashing to the floor.
I toss the knife far out of reach and catch her legs, throwing them over my arms and pushing them back until she’s bent nearly in half.
Then I ram into her with a vicious, final intensity.
It’s violent. It’s brutal. It’s fucking messy.
But goddamn, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.
Her body shakes beneath me, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her pussy clenches around me in a death-grip. A scream rips from her lungs as she creams all over me, her entire world collapsing.
“Fuck yes, baby. So.” Thrust. “Fucking.” Thrust. “Good.” Thrust.
I let out a guttural groan as I finally empty myself deep inside her, the heat of it joining us together.
“Mine,” she sighs, her voice a ghost of a sound as she runs her fingers through my hair.
“Mine,” I murmur, leaning down to steal her lips in one last, heated kiss.
I don't know how long we stay there.
Long enough for the red light to feel normal. Long enough for her breathing to even out and her fingers to slow in my hair.
For the first time in four years, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be.
I am hers.
She is mine.
And as I look at her, wrecked and beautiful on the floor, I wonder exactly how quickly I can get my property ink branded across the middle of her throat.