He starts fucking her hard. Like he’s punishing her for letting me have her first. His hand wraps around her throat, firm and possessive, and he leans down until his mouth is against her ear. “You like that?” he moans. “You like being passed between us? You like my cock more, don’t you, pretty angel?”

She moans, her legs kicking as he pounds into her. “You’re gonna come for me again,” he groans. “I don’t care if you’re tired. I don’t care if you’re full. You’re gonna fucking take it.” His hand tightens just enough to make her gasp, eyes fluttering open for half a second before rolling back.

“Fuck,” I breathe, sitting up, stroking myself to the sight of it, Tate slamming into her like he owns her, her body trembling around him.

He shifts, angling his hips, and she moans loudly.

“Right there,” he groans. “You feel that? That’s what you wanted. Not slow, not soft. Just cock and pressure and me.”

Her moans break. Her whole body locks up, legs shaking, back arched off the bed, tears slipping down her cheeks from the intensity.

Tate lets go of her throat, watching her fall apart. “Fucking ruined,” he mutters, slamming into her one more time before he shudders and groans, thick and deep, spilling inside her again. He stays there for a second, panting against her skin. Then he pulls out, his cum leaking down her thighs. “Clean her up,” he tells me, standing.

And with that, he leaves. The door shuts behind him. I crawl to her, heart aching. Her body is limp, trembling, breath ragged. I press kisses to her cheeks, her temple, her throat. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, pulling her close. “You’re safe. I’m here.” She makes a soft sound, curling into me, face tucked against my neck. I hold her, wrapped around her naked, wrecked body, fingers stroking her hair as she finally drifts into a deeper sleep. No more moaning. No more twitching. Just soft, warm silence. And me… completely, hopelessly hers.

31

Haven

My body remembers, the ache. The slow, drugged pulse of pleasure that never fully stopped, even as I drifted under. Like I was being pulled apart and worshiped all at once, I felt like I was still being touched, even in sleep.

I remember the way my thighs trembled, the way my pussy clenched around nothing. I remember the weight of a hand on my throat, not cruel, but claiming. A mouth sucking bruises into my chest. My name whispered like a prayer and a promise, and maybe something darker.

I loved it. God, I loved it. Even half-conscious, barely awake — I let it happen. I opened for it, wanted it.