The moment she sank down on me, the world split apart. My mind wasn't mine anymore—every thought burned, tangled with hers until all I could hear was us. Her body gripped me like she was made for me, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Just her. Just Sera.
I tried to hold on, to stay grounded, but the bond shredded me. Every gasp, every sound she spilled into the air lit me up from the inside. My hands locked around her hips, dragging her harder, faster, needing her closer, needing her everywhere until there was no clean edge where I ended and she began.
God, she was wrecking me. And I loved it.
But I needed to give it back. Needed her ruined, trembling too. Needed her mine.
A sound broke out of me—and I surged up, bracing her to the desk until the wood groaned. The suit shrugged off my shoulders; there were streaks across my chest where her nails had caught skin, but none of it mattered. I caught her waist, spun her, bent her over the varnished surface. Silver hair spilled over the papers like starlight scattered across a night sea, and for a second the sight punched the breath right out of me.
She laughed, dark and hungry, and the sound punched through my ribs. I pressed into her from behind, seated myself deep in the heat of her, and everything inside me snapped into a single ruthless line. The desk rattled. My fingers branded their shape into her waist as I held her open and drove into the rhythm she dragged out of me—rough, relentless, the kind of pace that saiddon't you dare stop.
Every time she moaned my name, the bond flared white-hot, her pleasure ricocheting through my bones until my knees went loose. She pushed back to meet me with that same greedy need, nails scraping the wood, breath breaking on my name like it belonged to her mouth. I swore I'd never get enough. I never would. Couldn't.
I caught her and pulled her upright, her spine arching into me, my chest locking to her back like a shield. One hand slid into her hair and curled, coaxing her head to the side, baring the line of her throat; the other gripped her hip so firmly it felt like I'd be wearing the shape of her for days. She arched, a sweet, wrecked sound, and I set my teeth to her skin—not like hers, not sharp enough to break—just a firm, claiming press that saidmine.
She tipped her chin higher, offered me more throat, and pushed back into me so hard my balance staggered. Consent, clear as a hand fisted in my tie. The bond roared its approval.
I changed the angle, searching for that place that made her breath catch and her knees tremble, and when I found it, her fingers went white-knuckled on the desk's edge. I chased it again. Again. Her sounds grew ragged, the kind of helpless music that rewires a man, and I followed, faster, deeper, merciless, hands mapping every arch and tremor like I was learning a language meant only for us.
The desk started to complain in earnest. A pen skittered to the floor. A picture frame toppled and clattered; neither of us looked. I hooked my arm beneath her thigh and lifted, bracing her knee on the edge of the desk to open her wider for me, and the way she gasped—head dropping back onto my shoulder—nearly tore me in two. I held her there, planted and helpless and wild, and drove into that shivering heat until her sounds blurred into a single long note that vibrated in my spine.
"Cass," she breathed, and it wasn't a plea. It was a benediction.
I couldn't stay still. I couldn't be gentle. I wanted to ruin the hallway, the doorway, the walls with proof of us. I dragged her off the desk without really thinking, lifted her with her legs wrapping high around my hips, and walked her backward until her shoulders hit the paneled wall with a dull thud. Paper fluttered off us like snow. Her hands tugged my hair and hauled my mouth to hers. The kiss was savage and sweet and endless, teeth and breath and the shocked sound she made when I let go of control.
"Here," I rasped, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. "Stay with me."
Shesmiledagainst my mouth, that wicked, adoring curve that ruined every ounce of sense I had left, and obeyed—wrists offered, throat bared, hips rolling to meet me. I set my forehead against hers, eyes locked on the way she unraveled for me, and found a new rhythm: slower for a heartbeat, then brutal, then slow again. Teasing. Devouring. Loving the way her breath hitched in those silences between thrusts, then shattering them on the next one until she was cursing me softly, begging without saying the word.
Heat skated over my skin where hers touched mine, cool and electric, and the bond caught us, amplified us, fed every spark back tenfold. I could feel her wanting—the exact shape of it—clawing through my nerves as if they were shared. It made me greedy. It made mehers.
I let her wrists go. She didn't move them. She held herself there for me, every long line of her body an offering. I took her by the hips and turned her again, pressing her palms to the wall, feet planted, back arched, hair a storm around her shoulders. I came in close, chest to her spine, my mouth at the hinge of her jaw.
"God, I love you," I told her, rough and reverent all at once.
"Mmm..I love you too," she shot back, breathless and certain.
I drove into her from behind, hips snapping, a deep, ruthless cadence that made the wall rattle and my vision blur. Each time she tightened around me, sparks shot up my spine; each time I dragged her back into me, those sparks detonated. The bond surged, thick and molten, and I knew I was done for. I would never be the same. I didn't want to be. I can't even remember what life without her was like.
Her hand groped back for me blindly. I laced our fingers together and anchored both our palms against the wall, our hands locked, our breaths colliding, the rhythm going feral and perfect as the line frayed and frayed and frayed—
She came first, the sound of it echoing through the room and ripping through the bond like a lightning strike. It took me with her. My body seized, the world narrowed to her name and the press of her body and the way she shook in my arms. I buried my face in her shoulder and rode the aftershocks, holding her so tight I felt the tremors in my own bones.
For a long moment, there was only the hush of our breathing, the slow climb down. Her fingers threaded back through my hair and tugged, lazy and possessive. I kissed the line of her throat, softer now, and felt the smile curve under my mouth.
"Again," she whispered, wrecked and triumphant, and the bond lit like a match.
"Sera. Babe, we should clean up," I whispered back in her ears. "I mean look at the suit you just got me on the floor."
We could do it in the shower Cass.
I laughed—raw, helpless—and lifted her, already hungry, already gone, because there was no version of me that wouldn't answer that call.
That's so unfair, I was tryna be the good one.