I hook my fingers into his hair and yank his mouth down to mine.
The kiss doesn't just happen—it detonates.
It’s a collision of teeth and tongue, a desperate war for air.
His grip locks around my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh with a bruising force that makes me gasp into his mouth.
I crave it. I want those marks. I want the purple blooms of his fingerprints on my hips as permanent proof that I belong toa man who claims me because I’m his, not because I am a prize to be owned.
He doesn't lead me to the bed. He doesn't have the patience for it.
With a guttural growl, he hoists me up. I wrap my legs tight around his waist, my heels digging into his glutes as he carries me across the room.
He slams me back onto the heavy wooden surface of his dresser.
The impact jars my spine, sending a shock of adrenaline through me as cologne bottles rattle and slide, some crashing to the floor, but neither of us flinches.
He’s between my legs in an instant, his massive frame pinning me against the wood.
He doesn't ask; he takes.
His mouth crashes onto my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my collarbone, marking me with a hunger that borders on feral.
He rips my shirt over my head in one violent motion, tossing it blindly across the room.
He stops for a fraction of a second, his chest heaving, eyes dark and blown wide as he surveys me.
"Tell me if it's too much," he rasps, his voice barely held together, the alpha dominance warring with a desperate need to protect me.
I reach up, grabbing the nape of his neck and pulling him back down. "It's not enough. Give me everything."
The sound that leaves his chest is a low, predatory growl that vibrates through my sternum and settles as a heavy heat between my thighs.
He doesn't go slow.
He lunges, his tongue dragging across my nipple with a wet, demanding pressure that makes my back arch off the dresser.
He pins my hip down with one palm, his grip iron-tight, holding me still while he sucks and bites at the peak of my breast until I'm sobbing, my fingers clawing at the polished wood beneath me.
His free hand doesn't fumble.
He tears at the button of my jeans, the zipper shrieking as he forces the denim down my legs. He strips me bare, leaving me exposed and shivering under his intense gaze.
He dives down, his mouth searing a path across my stomach, past my navel, and deep into the crease of my hip.
When his hot breath hits the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, I let out a wrecked, high-pitched moan that echoes in the quiet room.
He’s methodical, reading every shiver, every desperate tilt of my pelvis.
He uses his tongue and fingers to drive me toward the edge, pushing me higher and higher until I'm begging, my heels digging into his shoulders.
Just as the tension becomes unbearable, he pulls away, leaving me aching and empty.
"Please," I choke out, my hips lifting instinctively, searching for him. "Please, fuck me."
He doesn't make me wait any longer.
He sheds his clothes in a blur of motion and looms over me, his cock thick and pulsing, leaking pre-cum that glistens in the dim light.