The sounds of our bodies meeting filled the silence. Her breath became a pant, her lids lowering as she watched me fuck into her. Something was taking over; I stopped thinking, stopped worrying. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the gym. Not my brother or bills. Not Fairchild.

There was only this. Only Parker. She lit me up, made me something new—something good. Groaning, I found her mouth and devoured it. My thrusts became frantic. No more finesse, no more control, just this need to push into her, get as close as possible to her skin so that maybe she could absorb me.

My thoughts grew jumbled, my breath harsh and dry. I needed more.

Her skin was slippery with sweat as I grabbed her thigh and hauled it up higher, spreading her wider.

“Yes,” she rasped, arching up, pressing her breasts against my chest.

Yes. The best word in the English language. Yes. And more. And fuck.

Grunting, I worked her hard, my lips finding the fragrant curve of her neck. I sucked her skin, moved my hips, and fucked her with everything I had.

Parker cried out, her body going tight around me. I could feel her on the edge. Her skin was flushed, her eyes wide on me. “Rhys.”

I heard the plea. My voice was a thick rasp. “What do you need, Tink?”

“Grind it,” she said, gasping. “My clit.”

God. I loved the way she thought. My hips slammed into hers, and I paused there, pushing against her swollen clit. She moaned, her eyes closing, her head tilting back.

It was beautiful. And I was the lucky bastard who got to see this.

“Let go.” I thrust again, pausing, working her. “Give it to me, Parker.”

Her hands grasped my shoulders. She came with a spectacular wail, her body milking my dick so hard I saw stars. It set me off. I lost all sense of time, of anything but moving inside Parker, kissing her soft mouth.

I groaned into her mouth as I came. Everything drained out of me, and in that moment, I didn’t know my own name. Only hers.

I was hers.

* * *

“And this little beauty is an authentic Japanese samurai sword, owned by a World War II Japanese officer.” Fairchild lifted the sword off its display mount and held it aloft. “Note the blade. Made by Yoshimichi.”

His houseguests attempted to look interested as Fairchild beamed.

“Story goes, when the US occupied Japan at the end of the war, they confiscated the sword and presented it to an officer as a reward for his work in defeating the Japanese. Set me back around thirty thousand, but I was glad to pay the price.”

This fucking guy.