Amelia
His words hang between us like a gauntlet thrown on the marble floor.
Shall we go to bed…?
The casual way he says it should offend me. Instead, it sends heat pooling low in my belly, thick and insistent, the same heat that had built in the car when his eyes kept dragging over my body like he owned it already.
I set my empty glass down with a soft click. "Lead the way."
Dayan doesn't smile, but something shifts in his dark eyes.
He takes my hand, his grip firm and warm, those calloused fingers wrapping around mine as if they've done it a thousand times before.
We move through the house in silence, up a wide staircase that feels endless.
My heels click against the wood, too loud in the quiet.
Every step makes the ache between my legs sharper. I chose this. I chose him. The realization settles over me like a second skin, thrilling and terrifying all at once.
His bedroom is at the end of the hall, massive and sparse.
A huge bed dominates the room with its dark wood frame and crisp white sheets. Moonlight spills through tall windows, silvering the edges of everything. He closes the door behind us with a quiet finality that makes my pulse jump.
I turn to face him. The air feels charged and impossibly heavy. "Well?"
He steps closer, backing me toward the bed without touching me. "Take off the dress, Amelia."
My hands move before I can overthink it, reaching for the zipper at my side.
The black satin slides down my body and pools at my feet.
I step out of it in nothing but my lace panties and heels.
His gaze rakes over me slowly, devouring.
My nipples tighten under the cool air and the weight of his stare, the same way they had in the car when he couldn't stop looking.
"Fuck," he mutters, low and rough. He shrugs out of his jacket, then his shirt, revealing a torso carved from years of something far harder than gym routines.
Scars mark his skin in faint lines. Tattoos I can't quite make out in the low light.
He looks absolutely terrifying and dangerous in equal measure.
He looks exactly what the part of me I had ignored for the last ten years wants most.
I reach for him, but he catches my wrists gently and pins them to my sides. “I want to look at what's mine."
He releases me and sinks to his knees, hands sliding up my thighs. His mouth follows, hot and open against my skin. I gasp when he hooks his fingers in my panties and drags them down, leaving me bare. He presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then higher, until his tongue finds my center.
"Dayan," I breathe, my hands fisting in his hair, my pelvis grinding against him.
He doesn't answer with words. He just devours me, licking and sucking with single-minded focus until my legs shake and I'm moaning his name like a prayer.
The orgasm crashes over me fast and hard, leaving me trembling as he rises to his feet.
He lifts me effortlessly onto the bed before shedding the rest of his clothes.
His cock is thick and heavy, curving up against his stomach, already leaking at the tip.
The sight of it sends another wave of heat through me.
He climbs over me, caging me in with his body, kissing me.
I taste myself on his tongue and I go dizzy with want.
"You chose this," he says against my mouth, voice gravelly. "You chose me."
"Yes." I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. "Take what's yours. Make it real."
He doesn't hesitate. The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, slick from my release, and he pushes inside in one slow, relentless thrust. I cry out at the stretch, the fullness.
He's big, almost too much, but it feels perfect.
He settles deep inside me, letting me adjust as he drops kisses over my jaw and neck.
"Perfect," he growls. "So fucking tight for me."
Then he starts to move. Long, powerful strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside me. I claw at his back, meeting him thrust for thrust, lost in the rhythm. The slap of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with my gasps and his low grunts.
He fucks me like a man claiming territory, like he's already thinking about the life we'll build here.
"Going to fill you up," he says, voice breaking with the effort of holding back. "Breed this tight little cunt until it takes. Give you my child, Amelia. Start our family tonight."
I wait for the words to shock me. Instead, they send me spiraling higher. I arch beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders as another climax builds fast and vicious. "Yes. Please."
He shifts angles, lifting himself up and leaning back, driving deeper.
One hand slides between us to circle my clit.
I come apart around him with a sharp cry, clenching tight as pleasure whites out my vision.
Dayan follows right after, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan.
His cock pulses inside me, flooding me with hot spurts that are punctuated by his muscles tightening and gasp.
He stays there, pressed deep, as if making sure every drop stays where it belongs.
We stay locked together, breathing hard. He brushes damp hair from my forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle after the intensity. I feel raw and claimed and strangely at peace. For once, no one decided this for me. I walked into the fire willingly, and it feels like freedom.
He pulls out slowly and rolls us so I'm tucked against his chest. His hand rests possessively over my lower belly, like he's already imagining it swelling with his heir.
"Sleep," he murmurs into my hair. "Tomorrow we start the rest."
I close my eyes, the steady beat of his heart under my cheek. Whatever comes next, I've never felt more alive.