But her body… her ruined, loved, marked body… it wanted to stay.
He pressed closer, forcing her softness into his frame, her nipples aching now, her stomach fluttering like wings were beating inside her.
"I won't lie to you," he murmured, voice more flame than breath. "I'll still look. Still ache. Still fantasize. But if you let me fuck your mouth before I even say good morning—if I can use your holes without needing to ask—then I swear… you're the only one I'll beg for. The only one I'll kneel to. The only one who'll ever own my filth."
Her legs trembled. Her fingers curled in helpless surrender.
"I'm… I'm scared," she whispered.
Her heart screamed with it.
Her morals seemed to tremble.
His lips touched hers—soft, teasing, cruel.
"I'm worse than anything you fear."
And still, she didn't pull away.
Still, she held onto him.
Then, still carrying her, he stepped toward the bed—not to lay her down.
But to hold her on the edge.
