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"Please… yes," I murmur, craving the feel of him inside me again. I need it. God, I think I'd fucking beg for it at this point.
He slams into me without warning, stretching and filling me. I cry out at the sheer force of his thrust. At the sheer size of him. My inner muscles twinge, but it doesn't hurt. God, no. Nothing has ever felt better than him inside me.
He fucks me without mercy or restraint, each powerful thrust branding me as his own. Again and again, he pounds into me, fucking me so deep I lose track of everything but him.
"God, Memphis," I moan, gripping the sheets beneath me as my body bows to him once again, unable to withstand his power over me.
"Come for me, Kylie," he growls, his hand tangled in my hair. "I'm not stopping until you scream my name."
I can't resist him. I don't even try.
I surrender to the sensations flooding through me. The orgasm rocks me to my core, waves of euphoria crashing through me as I scream his name, giving him exactly what he wants.
"Fuck, baby," he grunts, his own release pulsing hot within me.
I moan, loving the way it feels. Loving every damn second of this. And as we come down, tangled together, I realize there's no turning back now—I'm bound to this man, for better or worse.
A few minutes later, I find myself cradled in his strong arms as he carries me to the bathroom like I weigh nothing. My legs still tremble from my orgasm and my heart races at the way he cares for me as if I'm something priceless.
When he's inside me, he fucks me like a beast. But every other minute of the day, he's so gentle with me, so careful.
He sets me down on my feet as soon as we're over the threshold, a wicked grin playing on his lips. "Alright, Toto. You can pee now."
"Thanks, Wizard," I snap back, scowling daggers at him. I should probably hate his stupid nickname for me, but I honestly kind of love it. It's ridiculous, but so is he. And every damn time he says it, I think about what he said that day in his office. Toto was the best part of the movie to him. He was always my favorite part, too.
Ignoring Memphis's amused expression, I hurry to the toilet and close the door behind me. The sound of running water reaches my ears, and I realize that he's preparing the shower while I take care of business.
When I step out of the private toilet area, steam billows around the spacious bathroom. Memphis stands under the hot spray, water sluicing down his tattooed body. I stop mid-step, staring at him.
Lord, he's gorgeous.
He sees me staring and grins, his cobalt eyes running down my body. He crooks a finger, beckoning me toward him. "You better get in here before I have to come get you, princess."
I bite my lip, my core clenching. For a brief moment, I consider making him come and get me. But I have a feeling if I do, it's going to end with me running through this big ass house with him chasing me. And when he catches me, he'll deliver more orgasms than I can safely handle at the moment.
Considering that my body is still tingling from his touch, I go with option two.
I scurry toward the shower, allowing him to pull me inside. He slams the door behind me, plastering his body to mine.
"Knew you'd see it my way," he breathes, his lips touching mine in a sweet kiss before he pushes me beneath the hot spray.
"Memphis, what are you doing?" I ask, trying to sound more exasperated than intrigued. Hot water cascades down on us, shutting out the world.
"Taking care of you." His voice softens as he reaches for the shower gel. "You're mine now. That means I look after you in every way, Toto."
"Is that so?" I ask, raising an eyebrow even as my heart flutters at his words. He's the most complicated man I've ever met, but I think I want him to care for me—even if it is in his domineering, bossy way. There's something endearing about it, as if he's never done it before and doesn't know the first thing about it but is trying like hell to get it right anyway.
"Damn right," he growls, lathering up a washcloth with the tip of his tongue caught between his lips. He gently runs it over my body, his touch is surprisingly tender as he cleans me, and I can't help but lean into him, craving the intimacy between us. "Now, hush and let me do my job, and then I'll drive you home."
"Fine," I concede, fighting a smile as I surrender another piece of myself into his hands.
An hour later, the hotel I've been living in looms in front of us, and Memphis's grip on the steering wheel of his truck tightens so much his knuckles turn white.
"You're living here?" he growls, his voice a deep rumble that spells trouble.
"It's only temporary." It's not the best hotel in the city, but it's not the worst, either. There are no millionaire musicians here, but it's not a pay-by-the-hour place, either. Everything is clean and orderly, and it's in a decent area within walking distance of the bar.
"Hell no." He pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine.
