“That is mine,” he says against my mouth. “That look. That sound. Not Carmen’s. Not theirs. Not the assholes with cameras. Yours.”
My throat tightens.
“Mine,” I gasp.
“Again.”
“Mine.”
“Damn right.”
He fucks me harder, and the bed knocks the wall again. I should care. I do not. Let the rich neighbors hear. Let the towerknow I am alive. Let every ghost of that flower warehouse choke on the sound of me choosing what happens to my body.
“Do not get so bossy, gringo.”
His mouth finds my ear. “You like me bossy while I am fucking you.”
“Only when you listen.”
His teeth scrape my jaw. “Then tell me how to fuck you.”
Coño.
My body answers before my pride can.
“Harder,” I gasp. “And do not look away.”
He smiles against my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Pendejo.”
“Your pendejo.”
“Not yet.”
He drives into me harder, and my vision sparks. “Then I’ll earn it.”
He says it like a vow and fucks me like a punishment, like he is willing to take every bit of anger my body can give him and turn it into heat. His hand slides under my knee, opening me more, changing the angle until I cry out into his shoulder.
“There,” he says, voice wrecked. “Fuck, baby, right there?”
I nod because words are gone.
“No.” His hips slow just enough to make me desperate. “Use that mouth you love weaponizing.”
I bite his shoulder. “There. Right there. Do not you dare stop.”
He groans, savage and satisfied, and gives it to me.
That should not be the thing that breaks me.
It is.
I come with my mouth open against his shoulder, biting down to keep from screaming loud enough for every rich neighbor in the tower to learn my business. Pleasure tears through me hot and hard, dragging every ugly thing behind it for one bright second. I am not tied to a chair. I am not a rumor. I am not a rose. I am a woman coming apart because I chose the man inside me, and he listened when I told him how.
Shady follows after, rough and shaking, my name torn out of him like a confession, his face buried against my throat like even coming apart has to be done where he can feel my pulse.
For a while, there is only our rough breathing.