Page 54 of Property of Chux

Like he’s inside my soul

I tighten around him, gasping as his name falls from my lips. He groans, his movements growing just a little more desperate, his control slipping as he presses his forehead to mine.

“Look at me,” he murmurs.

I open my eyes, finding his already locked on mine. And that’s when it hits me—this is making love.

He’s not just fuckingme.

He’s showing me.

Showing me how much I matter.

The pleasure builds, slow and intense, like a rising wave I can’t stop. My fingers grip his shoulders, my body tightening around him, and when I come apart, I don’t just feel it—I experience it.

And he’s right there with me, following me over the edge, his grip on me tightening as he lets go, as he buries himself deep one last time.

For a long moment, neither of us move. We just breathe, tangled in each other, in the heat, in the overwhelming reality of what just happened.

Then, slowly, he rolls us, keeping me on top of him, his arms still wrapped around me.

I rest my cheek against his chest, my heart still racing.

Damian runs a hand through my hair, his touch gentle, reverent. He presses a kiss to my temple, whispering against my skin.

“You’ve had my mark on you for a long time, baby.”

I close my eyes, smiling softly. “And you’ve had mine.”

“I love you Alaina,” he whispers as I snuggle down into him.

“I know and I love you Damian like I’ve never loved anyone.”

EPILOGUE

ALAINA

The scent of sugar,and freshly brewed coffee fills the air as I unlock the front door to the bakery and step inside. The early morning light filters through the large front windows, casting a warm glow over the display cases that are still empty, waiting for the first batch of pastries to fill them.

It’s a quiet morning, just the way I like it before the rush begins. I set my bag down behind the counter and tie my apron around my waist, ready to start the first round of baking. But as I step toward the back to grab the ingredients I need, I hear something I definitely wasn’t expecting.

A low moan.

I freeze mid-step, my heart skipping a beat.

Maybe I imagined it?

But then another sound—this time unmistakably a man’s deep, gravelly voice—filters through the hallway. I know that voice.

“Oh, fuck Kelly?—”

My eyes go wide.

Oh myGod.

I whirl around and stride straight back toward the front door, my steps quick and silent. The last thing I need is to hear any more of that.

I reach for the door handle, ready to step outside and give them whatever privacy they have left, but then something crashes—a loud thud—like someone just knocked over an entire stack of supplies.

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