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My cock strained against my jeans, demanding release. In one swift move, I undid my belt, jeans hitting the floor with a thud. No more waiting. No more games.
"Need you," I lined myself up at her entrance. Her whimper sent a shiver down my spine.
"Christ..." I pushed inside, deep, filling her completely. Her cry echoed off the walls, the most perfect sound.
"Fuck, you're tight," I hissed, pulling back only to slam into her again, setting a brutal rhythm.
"Harder," she begged, and I obliged. Tracing my hand down her back, I felt the raised skin where the flogger impacted against her. Groaning, my cock twitched. I'd never thought myself an artist, but Goddamn if she didn't look pretty in red.
"Mine," I grunted, the word punctuated by the slap of skin on skin. "Say it!"
"Yours, Chris, always yours!" Her words fractured, cracked by the force of my possession.
"Good girl." I leaned over her, teeth grazing her shoulder, marking her with every bite.
I fucked her with everything I had, driven by a hunger that couldn't be tamed. Her moans grew louder, and I chased the sound, chased her climax, chased the fucking oblivion that only she could give me.
"Come for me, Ella," I ordered, a hand snaking around to circle her clit. "Now."
And she shattered, her body convulsing around me, dragging me over the edge. We rose the wave together, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, the darkness swallowing us whole.
"Shit..." I panted, still buried inside her. The world narrowed down to her heartbeat against mine, to the rise and fall of our chests, to the undeniable truth that in this fucked-up game of power and possession, she owned me just as much as I owned her.
I picked her up and walked her to the bed, collapsing on top of her. I lay there, chest heaving, the inferno that had raged through my veins now cooling to embers. Ella was beneath me, her petite frame still shuddering with aftershocks, her breaths shallow and quick against my neck.
"Fuckin' hell," I murmured, the grit of my voice echoing the rawness that clung to every nerve ending. My flesh throbbed where it pressed into hers, a living brand of ownership.
Her hands, small and fierce, traced the contours of my back. They mapped territories she'd come to know—to own— in ways no one else ever had. I rolled off her, my body protesting the loss of contact, but I needed to see her—to witness the aftermath painted on her skin.
"Look at you." My eyes devoured the sight: the flush of her cheeks, the way her lips were swollen from my kisses, the red marks where my fingers had gripped too tight. The cuts that would soon become small scars. "Every inch of you screams mine."
Satisfaction curled inside me like smoke, dark and heady. I reached out, tracing the lines of blood I’d drawn earlier, the crimson stark against her milky skin. It was art, primal and intimate—us etched in flesh and blood.
"Does it hurt?" My finger paused over a particularly deep cut.
"Only in the best ways," she breathed, and the love in her gaze was a fucking punch to the gut—a blow no fight had ever prepared me for. Truthfully, it probably needed stitches.
I leaned in, capturing her mouth once more, a kiss that was all teeth and need.
"Again," she gasped when I finally broke away, her brown eyes alight with something wild, something that matched the darkness in me.
"Patience, little ember. I pushed you today and now you need to rest. Recovery's part of the game."
"Then make it quick." Defiance sparked in her tone, and fuck if it didn't make me want her all over again.
"Bossy little thing, aren't you?" I grinned, though the edge to my smile promised retribution. Pleasure and punishment—they blended seamlessly between us, two sides of the same tarnished coin.
"Learned from the best."
"Damn right." I pulled back, our gazes locked. In the dim light of the dungeon, her bruises and the marks I'd left glowed like war paint. "Next time, I won't be so gentle."
"Promise?" The word hung between us, a vow drenched in desire and danger.
"Swear on my fuckin' life." And I meant it—every crude word, every unspoken oath.
This moment, these sensations, they were the calm in the storm, the eye of the hurricane that had become us. We were destruction and salvation entwined; a mad dance of power and surrender. And as I watched her drift into sleep, her breath evening out, her face softening, I knew there was no coming back from this.
She was my ruin. My retribution. My redemption.
