Page 158 of They Are Mine

The way his breath roughens, the way he groans when I tighten around him.

The blindfold makes it so much worse, so much better.

His hand comes up, grips my throat, gentle, but firm, pinning me down as he thrusts harder, deeper, rougher.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t need to.

Because I’m about to shatter.

“Come for me,” he orders, voice gritted, commanding.

And I do.

I fall apart completely.

Writhing, moaning, shaking.

He follows with a groan, thrusting deep, holding me tight.

Then? Silence.

Just the sound of our breathing, ragged, uneven.

His weight over me, his body still inside mine.

I’m floating.

Still blindfolded. Still trembling. My wrists are warm where he held them. My body still thrums with the aftershocks of what he did to me.

Elliot’s fingers ghost up my arms, gentle now, tracing the places he restrained me. Then, with deliberate care, he unties one wrist. I flex my fingers, barely remembering how to move them, and then he kisses the inside of my wrist. Soft. Reverent. Like he’s worshiping the marks he left.

Oh. Oh, I like that.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt this cherished after being utterly destroyed.

He unties the other, kisses that one too. Then his hands glide up my arms, slow and soothing, until they cradle my face.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.

I shiver.

He pulls off the blindfold, and the room is too bright for a second. I blink up at him. He looks so damn pleased with himself. Smug. Sated. Like a man who just claimed something he’s never giving back.

That’s cute. He still thinks he’s in charge.

His fingers sweep my hair back from my face. “How do you feel?”

Ruined. Obsessed. Starving for more.

“Perfect,” I whisper, because that’s the only word I can manage.

He smirks. “I bet you do.”

And then?

He kisses me.

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