His hold on my waist tightens, unrelenting, keeping me pinned to the desk as he moves. Slow at first—teasing, tormenting—drawing out until I’m gasping, until I’m shaking. Then faster. Harder. Deeper. Until there’s nothing left but the stars bursting behind my eyelids.

The rhythm turns rougher, more desperate, more unhinged, his control shredding with each thrust, each broken moan. The desk creaks beneath us, rocking with every movement.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he says, mouth over my ear, his voice barely human.

I whimper, clinging to him as he drives into me, over and over, his pace unrelenting.

I’m close. Too close. He feels it.

His fingers find my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

“Eyes on me. I want to watch you come.”

And just like that, I shatter.

Pleasure crashes over me in a tidal wave, my entire body convulsing as I cry out his name, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Alex follows with a curse, burying himself deep, his entire body tensing, trembling, before he collapses against me, breathless, spent.

The only sound in the room is our ragged breathing. And for a long moment, neither of us moves. We just exist in this aftermath, tangled, burning, wrecked.

I close my eyes, letting the pressure of him ground me, the steady thump of his heart beneath my palms anchoring me to this moment.

He lifts his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead, my temple, my lips.

“You’re incredible.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, big guy.”

His chest rumbles with laughter before he nips at my bottom lip, stealing another slow, lingering kiss.

His grip on my waist lingers, firm and possessive.

A slow breath leaves me, my body still humming, still molded to the hard surface of my desk—the place where I just let him take me, where I gave in to the need that burns everything else away.

His fingers brush over my back, his lips brushing against my temple. “You were made for this.”

A shiver rolls through me, not just from his words, but from the quiet certainty in them.

I let my nails drag down his back, anchoring myself to the weight of him. “You enjoy fucking me on my desk, Sebring?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I love fucking you on your desk, Steel.”

I grin, squeezing the muscles in his shoulders. “Good. I like it too.”

His thumb brushes over my lips. “You’re mine.”

The words settle deep, reverberating through every inch of me.

I don’t respond. I don’t need to. Because we both already know it’s true.

Chapter 30

Alex Sebring

Laughter rises over the clink of ice and the thrum of bass-heavy music. Whiskey and beer hang in the air, the lighting low and moody. Normally, I’d love to come and relax, a drink in hand, at a place like this. But tonight, I have bigger things on my mind.