“Edward—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, mouth on my neck. “Come for me, sunshine. Right here in your gallery. Let the whole damn world know you’re mine.”
My body clamps around him, pulse after pulse of heat tearing through me as I cry out into his shoulder.
Before the aftershocks fade, he yanks his belt open, frees his cock, and pushes into me in one brutal, perfect thrust.
I scream, clutching his shoulders. He fills me so completely I can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel.
“Mine,” he growls, setting a punishing rhythm, each thrust rattling the table beneath us. “Say it.”
“Yes! Yours, Edward. Always yours.”
His mouth claims mine again, swallowing my cries as we lose ourselves in the furious, beautiful rhythm.
And when he finally groans my name and spills deep inside me, I know without doubt this is forever.
We collapse together, breathless and grinning, surrounded by my art, our art, our future.
I kiss him once more, soft and certain. “Told you the gallery would be a success.”
He chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine. “It is. But you’re the masterpiece, Penny Kaye. And I’ll never stop showing you off.”
