A particularly deep thrust hits something inside me that makes my vision blur. "There," I gasp. "Right there."
"Like this?" He repeats the motion with unerring accuracy, hitting the same spot over and over.
"Yes," I whimper, already climbing toward another peak. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning to." His voice is strained, control visibly slipping as his thrusts become harder, faster. "You're mine tonight, Reese. Say it."
The possessive demand should annoy me, but instead it sends another wave of heat through my core. "Yours," I gasp out, beyond pride or pretense.
"That's right." His hand slides up my body to wrap around my throat, not squeezing but claiming. "Mine to fuck. Mine to make come. Mine to mark."
The pressure from him inside me and the weight of his hand at my throat is overwhelming. My body tenses around him, another orgasm building impossibly fast.
"Come for me," he commands, his thumb brushing over my pulse point. "Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."
The orgasm slams through me like an earthquake, shattering me in the best possible way. I arch beneath him, crying out as pleasure consumes every nerve ending. He doesn't slow down, fucking me through it with deep, grinding thrusts that extend the sensation until I'm sobbing with overstimulation.
"On your side," he commands once I've caught my breath, already moving to position me before I can fully comply.
I roll onto my side, too pleasure-drunk to do anything but follow his lead. He lifts my leg, settling behind me as he slides back inside with no resistance. This angle is different, deeper, more primal. His chest presses against my back, his hand gripping my thigh to hold my leg up, his breath hot against my ear as he establishes a new rhythm.
"You like being controlled like this?" he asks, lips brushing my ear as he slides his free hand around to cup my breast. "Being taken exactly how I want you?"
"Yes," I admit, past shame or pretense. "God, yes."
"You're perfect," he groans, his pace increasing. "So fucking perfect for me. Made to take my cock."
The praise combined with the dirty talk sends me spiraling again. This position hits different spots, stretches me in new ways, makes me feel completely surrounded and claimed by him.
His hand slides down from my breast to my clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation is too much, building me toward another climax faster than should be possible.
"Gray," I pant, reaching back to grab his hair. "I'm close again."
"Me too," he growls, his control finally, completely shattering. "One more time. Come with me, Reese. Let me feel you squeeze my cock when I fill you up."
When it hits, it's like nothing I've ever experienced. Pleasure explodes outward from where we're joined, consuming every nerve ending, short-circuiting all thought. I cry out, my body clenching around him as he drives deep and holds, his own release triggered by mine.
I feel his knot swelling, locking us together as he pulses inside me. The pressure of it, the fullness, the knowledge that I'm completely claimed and filled by him triggers another aftershock that has me whimpering in his grip.
"That's it," he breathes against my neck, hand splayed possessively over my stomach. "Take it all. You're mine, Reese. All mine."
When we finally come down from the high, we lie joined, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. Gray's arm wraps around my waist, holding me against his chest like he's afraid I might disappear.
Eventually, he shifts us to a more comfortable position without breaking our connection, spooning me from behind with his face buried in my hair.
"I think I understand why Kinsley is so desperate to get you back," I murmur once I can form words again.
A shocked bark of laughter erupts from his throat. "That's what you're thinking about right now? Kinsley?"
"Just an observation," I say, unable to hide my smile. "You've got skills, Lockwood."
He presses a kiss to my shoulder, his arm tightening around me. "I never fucked Kinsley like that," he says, voice low and serious. "Never knotted her. Never felt anything close to what I just felt with you."
The simple honesty in his voice steals my breath. "Gray—"
"It's true." His hand splays over my ribs, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. "What we just did was better than any woman I've been with before. And not just because of your heat or my rut."
I twist carefully in his arms, needing to see his face despite the discomfort of moving while knotted. His expression is open, vulnerable in a way I've never seen before.
