Page 28 of The Lasso Master

"Strip."

Her head jerked up, eyes wide.

"Now," he said, voice hard.

She didn’t ask questions. Just obeyed. Fingers trembling as she peeled away the tatters of silk.

"You went knowing there was a very real possibility they’d add you to their auction. Did you really think they’d just let you walk away?" Reed’s voice was low, but the tremor beneath it betrayed him. His fists clenched at his sides, the tension ripplingup his forearms. A vein pulsed at his temple. Every part of him screamed with the urge to shake her, kiss her, tie her to the damn bed and never let her go again.

She didn’t deny it.

"Did you think I wouldn't burn the world down to get to you?"

Her breath hitched.

He stalked forward, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her around. Bent her over the edge of the bed.

"You ran. You lied. And you offered yourself up like a sacrificial lamb."

His hand cracked across her ass. Once. Twice. Hard enough to leave heat blooming under her skin, sharp enough to steal the breath from her lungs. She gasped, her body jolting forward with the force, her knees wobbling beneath the sting.

"You want to be treated like a thing? Like property?" he growled, voice low and dangerous. "Then I’ll remind you who you belong to."

He caught her arms with a swift, practiced motion and pulled them behind her, expertly wrapping the soft, supple leather cuffs around her wrists. The familiar, intoxicating scent of worn hide and his skin filled her senses, enveloping her. The audible click of the buckle was final and electrifying, a sound that resonated deep within her.

He didn’t offer her gentleness; there was no room for tenderness in this moment.

Instead, he claimed her completely—his hands firmly gripping her hips with a possessive intensity, his mouth tracing heated trails of desire across her shoulder blades. His teeth grazed the delicate curve of her neck, sending shivers down her spine, before he slid his erect length into her with relentless force. Hard. Deep. Unyielding.

He penetrated her with a fervor that spoke volumes of how close he’d come to losing her, as if by burying himself deep enough within her, he could ensure she would never leave again.

Every powerful thrust carried the unspoken weight of emotions he struggled to voice—the fear that clawed at his heart, the fury that simmered beneath his skin, the desperate need to imprint his essence onto her very soul. Her moans were raw and uninhibited, echoing through the room, her back arching instinctively to meet every brutal inch he delivered.

She embraced the punishment, craved it, and relished the searing heat of their entwined bodies. Her body trembled with exquisite sensation. Heat rolled through her in waves, laced with the sting of every strike and the pulse of every thrust.

Somewhere between pain and euphoria, she caught her breath and felt her chest tighten—not from fear, but from the overwhelming truth of being claimed so completely. For the first time, she didn’t run from it. She surrendered to it. From both the sting of his palm against her flesh and the sheer force of him asserting his claim over her. Yet she never flinched, never shied away.

And when he finally reached his climax, a fierce growl of her name escaping his lips as he released himself inside her, his hands clenched so tightly around her hips that she would bear the marks for days to come—he didn’t let go.

Instead, he enveloped her in his arms, drawing her close, and buried his face in the comforting sanctuary of her hair, breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers.

"Never again," he whispered into the heat of her skin. "You don’t get to leave. Not without me."

She didn’t fight it. Not this time. In his arms, shuddering and breathless, she softened—finally. Reed felt the tremor in hermuscles, the loosening of tension that had wrapped her tight since the moment he met her. She didn’t have to say anything. He felt it in the way her body curved into his—no resistance, just raw, unspoken trust.

And that trust hit him harder than any mission ever had. He tightened his grip around her waist, dragging her closer, chest to back, his breath warm against her neck. She wasn’t just surrendering to the scene. She was surrendering to him.

Letting him hold her like she was more than flesh... like she was his.

13

HARPER

The morning sun cut across Reed’s sheets like a brand, casting a golden blade of light over the wreckage of the night. It landed on Harper’s bare shoulder, tracing the outline of his bite from the night before—still dark, still tender—and she sucked in a quiet breath at the sting. Her fingers drifted to it, the raised skin warm under her touch. He hadn’t marked her by accident.

No, she knew exactly what he’d been doing. He’d claimed her, not with ceremony or words, but with teeth and heat and intention. A brand that said she was his. It still stung, a deep throb beneath her skin, but she didn’t mind. That ache grounded her.

The feeling reminded her she was wanted—marked in a way that was personal, primal, and entirely hers to accept. Not like before, not like the times she’d been touched out of greed or utility, passed off like currency in the hands of men who only saw her as a tool. This was different.

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