She did.
I dropped to my knees.
Pressed a kiss to her stomach. Another just above the lace of her thong.
"This," I whispered against the fabric, "is mine. Every part of you.Mine."
She whimpered, her fingers tangling in my hair.
"I want to taste you," I murmured. "But not yet. You’re not coming until I’m inside you. Understand?"
She nodded frantically. "Yes."
I peeled her thong down her legs slowly. Slow like unwrapping the most precious gift. Her scent hit me. Sweet. Intoxicating.
I stood, freeing myself from my jeans.
Her eyes locked on my cock. Hunger darkened her gaze.
"You ready for me, baby?"
"I've been ready for ten years."
I pushed her down on the bed and climbed over her, pinning her wrists above her head.
"You remember how this feels?" I asked, nudging against her entrance. "You remember how hard I used to make you come?"
"I never forgot," she whispered.
With a snarl, I buried myself inside her with one thrust.
She cried out; raw, broken, beautiful.
I held still for one perfect heartbeat.
Then I began to move.
Hard. Deep. Every thrust a punishment for the time we lost and a promise of everything to come.
The bed slammed against the wall, the headboard thudding a rhythm that matched the storm inside me.
"You feel that?" I hissed. "That’s what you’ve been missing."
Her hands clawed for something, anything to hold.
I caught her wrists again, pinning them. My lips brushed her jaw, her throat, her chest.
"Nash," she cried. "Harder. Please."
"Say it," I demanded, hips snapping. "Say you're mine."
"I’m yours!" she screamed. "Always!"
I shifted, wrapping one hand gently around her throat. Not tight. Just enough to feel her pulse race.
Her walls clenched.
"You gonna come for me like this?" I growled. "While I’m choking you, fucking you, loving you?"