Chapter 37
* * *
Emma
We tumbled into bed together, peeling away layers between desperate kisses until we were nothing but bare skin and racing pulses.
The world narrowed to touch—skin dragging against skin.
His mouth found mine again, deeper this time, a kiss that felt like possession and promise all at once. The fire between us surged, bright and consuming.
“Emma,” he murmured against my lips, my name a whisper filled with awe.
The chain of the collar skimmed along my skin—a reminder of everything we’d just chosen, everything we were becoming.
“Tonight… I just want to love you.” His hand swept along the curve of my waist, trailing sparks in its wake. “No subspace. No kink. Just us.”
I curled my fingers into his shoulders, pulling him closer, craving the weight of his body above me. The tension, the ache, the urgency—it all unfurled between us in a swell of passion.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing forced.
Just two people giving in to the gravity that had been pulling us toward this moment since the day we met.
“That sounds perfect.”
A wrecked sound escaped him. The world blurred, fading to sensation and stillness and the steady, soul-deep certainty of being held.
And when his mouth captured mine again, it wasn’t fire this time.
It was home.
* * *
Damien
She was a goddess beneath me—not for how she looked, though she was breathtaking, but for the way she opened for me so completely. So trustingly.
I hovered over her, brushing my lips against hers in unhurried, lingering passes, each one a prayer I didn’t dare speak aloud. Devotion thrummed in every touch—my hands mapping the curve of her waist, the fluttering beat at the base of her throat where the collar now rested.
A symbol.
A promise.
A choice she’d given freely.
“Emma,” I said, unable to stop myself. Her name tasted like relief. Like destiny. Like something I’d been waiting my whole damn life to say this way.
Her fingertips skimmed the back of my neck—gentle, searching—sending a shiver down my spine. I leaned into her touch, my voice catching on a sound dangerously close to worship.
I wasn’t sure what startled me more—that she wanted me like this, or that I wanted to fall to my knees for her.
Something inside me shifted, irrevocably. I lowered my forehead to hers, drawing her close, grounding myself in the rhythm of her body rising beneath mine.
I cupped her cheek, my thumb tracing the place where her tears had once fallen—the place I now had the privilege to kiss. She leaned into the touch like it mattered.
Like I mattered.
Her legs traced along mine, her body molding beneath my weight—not in surrender, but synchronicity. Fitting against me like a lock finding its key.
I kissed her again—slow, thorough, reverent.
Not claiming.
Not taking.
Just loving her the way she deserved.
Every sound she gave me, I matched.
She wasn’t mine because I’d placed a collar around her throat.
She was mine because she chose me.
Chose this.
Chose us.
Right there—her warmth beneath me, her pulse steady against my own—I vowed to spend the rest of my life proving she’d chosen right.
I kissed her again, letting the world fall away until there was nothing left but the press of her palms and the deep, aching pull inside me.
She shifted beneath me, her body aligning with mine so naturally it felt inevitable, like gravity had simply decided for us.
“Damien…” she whined.
Her legs brushed mine—inviting, teasing—and my focus sharpened, control thinning.
My lips dragged along the pulse at her throat. “Tell me what you want.”
She shivered. “I want…” Her fingers curled tight in my hair. “I want you.”
God. I would never get tired of that.
My hand slid down her side, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch. She parted for me without hesitation—her body pressed against my hips, drawing me closer.
I was already hard for her, every pulse syncing with the frantic rhythm between us. She hissed as I nudged against her, slickness waiting just beneath the surface.
“God,” I groaned. “I love how ready you get for me.”
Truth and praise tangled in one.
She moaned when my fingers grazed her most sensitive spot, her hips lifting instinctively, searching for more.
I smiled, leaning forward to trace my tongue along the delicate chain draped at her throat. The pendant trembled against her skin as she bucked up to meet me, grinding just enough to drag a groan from deep inside me.
“Please,” she begged, nails scraping down my back—desperate and perfect.
I chuckled low. “Not so fast, Ms. Sinclair.”
I moved down her body, taking my time, worshipping each inch—first her breast, drawing a soft moan from her as my mouth closed over her, her fingers tangling in my hair, her nails scraping lightly against my scalp as she urged me closer.
I groaned against her skin, the taste of her, the sound of her, the way she trembled for me making my vision blur at the edges.
I teased her other nipple between my fingers, pulling it until the skin drew tight.
She cried out—sharp, startled—and my cock throbbed so hard it almost hurt.
Her screams, even the small ones, lit something dark and brutal inside me—a vein of pure sadism wired into my spine.
I wanted them.
Louder.
Rawer.
Unrestrained.
Watching her break open under the right kind of pain…
God, it did something dangerous to me.
One day—if she asked, if she begged—I’d take her there.
A paddle.
A flogger.
But the whip…
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she’d crave the whip.
The crack. The sting.
The way she’d gasp right before pleasure swallowed the pain.
She’d crave it.
Just as much as I craved her screams.
One day she’d wear bruises and welts like trophies—symbols of strength, surrender, trust.
But not tonight.
Tonight wasn’t for the edge.
Tonight was for worship.
For the small cries that already had me trembling.
I slid lower, dragging my tongue down her stomach, lingering at every spot that made her gasp. Her skin shivered beneath every pass, her body arching toward my mouth.
I grabbed handfuls of her hips, her waist, her thighs—claiming my way downward.
She quivered beneath me, legs trembling, trying to close around me.
But nothing could stop me.
Not from seeing her.
Not from wanting her.
Not from worshipping the sight of her—open and glistening for me.
My mouth watered.
I needed her taste again—needed it the way a drowning man needs air.
A drug I would never quit.
I slid my tongue through her folds, her moans hitting me like a rush I’d never recover from. “You taste so fucking good,” I growled against her clit, letting my voice warm the sensitive bud.
“Damien—” She gasped, voice cracking beautifully.
I traced lazy circles around her clit, carving out the letters to all the words she wasn’t ready to hear. A private devotion.
My fingers twitched with the urge to join my mouth, to feel her grip around me. When her hips lifted, I let one slide inside her—slow and reverent, sinking into her heat with a slowness that nearly made me lose my sanity.
God.
She was perfect.
Her voice climbed higher when my fingers curled just right, her walls fluttering around me.
A second finger, deeper.
Her thighs trembled.
Her sounds shattered.
I moved faster, urging her over the edge—
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, writhing on the sheets.
My fingers moved faster, harder, curling the way I knew she loved. The spot inside of her softened, pressure clenching around my fingers.
“Fuck,” she cried out, her back bowing, muscles tightening as I pushed her closer to release.
And I wanted—wanted her to fall apart for me, every ounce of pleasure mine to witness.
Then she broke—heat flooding my mouth, spilling against my tongue. I took her without restraint, tasting every shudder she gave me, every pulse she offered. The sheets soaked beneath me, skin wet as she imploded.
Her hands flew to my hair, pinning me between her legs. Wave after wave of her orgasm pressed against my fingers.
I licked her through the throes, each squeeze of her less intense than the last, until eventually they stopped. Her body heavy, her pussy swollen, throbbing around my fingers.
My cock ached. I needed her. Now.
I pulled forward, mouth closing over her nipple as I reached between us, lining myself up with her slick entrance.
I pushed into her with a groan I couldn’t hold back—her body closing around me so tight, so perfect, it nearly undid me.
“Holy fuck.” I gasped as her walls clenched around me. My hips trembled with restraint, my forehead dropping to hers as I tried to steady myself.
The feel of her, the way she squeezed around me, the way she gasped—it was almost too much.
I wanted to move, to take, to drag every sound from her throat… but the way she opened for me made something inside me ache.
So I stayed still, letting her feel every inch of the way she owned me.
Then I began to move—measured at first, controlled, savoring the way her body rose to meet mine. Every shift of my hips dragged a low sound from her throat, her eyes locking onto mine with something wild and desperate burning in them.
She needed more.
God, so did I.
I slid an arm beneath the small of her back, lifting her into me, her skin brushing against mine as I drew her closer. The movement pressed a soft gasp from her lips—one I captured instantly, covering her mouth with mine, letting her taste the remnants of herself on my tongue.
Her hands curled against my shoulders, pulling me deeper, anchoring me with every exhale. The world narrowed to the intensity between us, the rhythm building, each sound she gave me unraveling me more than the last.
My tempo increased, and with it her cries—delicate at first, then sharper, rising with every thrust of momentum between us. Until I was moving with a force that felt like claiming, each motion syncing with the glint of the collar at her throat.
She screamed as I pressed against the inside of her, the edge of pain I knew she craved. Her body tightening, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight up my spine. I felt my own control slip, tension coiling hard and fast, release threatening—but I couldn’t. Not yet.
Her cries turned ragged, her nails dragging across my back in wild, desperate streaks. I felt them carve into my skin, and I smiled—a dark, hungry thing. She was unraveling around me, beneath me.
I brought my mouth to her ear. “Come for me, Emma.”
Her eyes squeezed shut, her back arching as the climax overtook her. I pulled her up against me, holding her through the wave. Riding out every tremor with her until her body finally softened, tension easing.
“Now it’s my turn.” The darkness I’d caged for so long slipped its leash.
I eased her forward, positioning her on her hands and knees. She followed my guidance without hesitation, spine dipping, thighs parting.
I sat back on my heels and just… looked.
Her pussy was slick, swollen, exposed—everything I’d imagined and more. Waiting for me. Ready for whatever I wanted to give her.
“Fuck,” I breathed. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”
My hands settled on her hips, the perfect anchor for everything I’d held back.
And when I took her again, I let go of every ounce of restraint I had left.
My rhythm turned fierce, each movement driving into her with the kind of possession I’d held back all night. Every time I rocked forward, I felt the way her body met mine—how it pulled a little gasp from her lips, her arching an effortless blend of surrender and demand.
I pressed my palm between her shoulders, guiding her down into the covers. She melted beneath the pressure, her hands gripping the fabric, knuckles white with need.
Pleasure built low and heavy inside me, coiling tight. My restraint frayed with every sound, every cry she made.
“Damien.” She gasped—voice breaking on a plea. “Come inside me.”
The words detonated in my skull.
Everything vanished. My vision went white as instinct roared to the surface.
A sound I didn’t recognize tore from somewhere deep—raw, guttural, primal—shaking through both of us as I emptied myself into her.
When the world finally came back into focus, she was looking over her shoulder at me. A devilish grin curved her lips, pride gleaming in her eyes—pride that I had come undone because of her. That I’d followed her command.
She tightened around me, her body teasing, coaxing for more without saying a word.
I leaned over her, my hand sliding around her throat.
“So greedy,” I murmured against her ear, voice wrecked from everything she’d taken from me.
Her eyes locked with mine, molten flecks burning in the green—a challenge, a dare, a claim. And god be damned, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her no.