Leo’s body went still beneath him, but her eyes didn’t. In the spent quiet of the studio, her gaze held his—not dazed, not surrendered, but sharp. A new hunger surfaced, hot and clear. The submissive vessel was gone, replaced by a wife who knew exactly what her body, his masterpiece, was for.

She arched against him, a deliberate roll of her hips that made him suck in a breath. The slick evidence of his claim inside her was just the beginning of hers now. Her hands, which had been limp on the cold steel bench, came up. Her nails—black polish, chipped from gripping the bench earlier—dug into the tense muscles of his lower back.

“Again,” she said. Her voice wasn’t the melodic murmur. It was raw, stripped.

Alex looked down at her, his own breathing still ragged. Sweat dripped from his jaw onto her sternum, between the swell of her new breasts. He was softening inside her, spent, but she clenched around him, a tight, possessive pulse. He shuddered.

“Leo—”

“You heard me.” Her eyes didn’t waver. The look in them wasn’t a request. It was a wife’s demand. “You don’t get to stop. Not until I say.”

He was still buried in her. He felt himself twitch in response, a faint, aching stir. Her command went straight to his cock, a live wire. A slow, stunned smile touched his lips. This was new. This was hers.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice gravel.

“I want you hard.” Her hand slid from his back, down over the curve of his ass. Her fingers pressed where they were joined. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t see straight. Right here. On your bench.”

She tightened around him again, a ruthless, milking pressure. Alex groaned, a deep, surrendering sound. He was already thickening, filling again at her demand, at the sheer fucking audacity of her taking control in this room, on this altar he’d built for her.

He began to move, a slow, testing withdrawal. Her hips chased his, keeping him seated deep. “No,” she breathed. “Don’t pull out. Just… get hard. Inside me.”

So he stayed. He rocked, a shallow, grinding rhythm that made her gasp. He watched her face—the bitten gloss of her lower lip, the flutter of her pierced eyelids. He felt himself swell, inch by inch, stretching her anew. The sensation was obscene, overwhelming. Her pussy was so wet, so hot, gripping him like a fist.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her head tipping back against the bench. The surgical lights haloed her dark hair. “Give it to me. All of it.”

When he was fully hard again, a thick, aching fullness sheathed inside her, she opened her eyes. They were black with want. “Now,” she said. “Fuck your wife, Alex.”

He obeyed. He drove into her, a deep, claiming thrust that knocked a sharp cry from her throat. But this time, her cries were punctuated with commands. “Deeper.” “Harder.” “Right there, don’t you dare move off that spot.” Her legs hooked around his waist, her Demonias digging into his flanks, steering his rhythm.

He was hers to use. The realization crashed over him, hotter than any orgasm. This body he’d sculpted, this perfect wife, was using him. Her hands were in his hair, pulling, directing his mouth to her neck, to the swell of her breast over her latex top. “Suck,” she demanded, and he did, his mouth latching onto her through the thin material, feeling her nipple peak against his tongue.

The pace was brutal, relentless. The wet slap of their skin echoed off the sterile walls. She was so loud, her moans turning into ragged shouts that bounced around the room. “Yes! God, yes, Alex! This is what you made me for! This!”

He was close again, too fast, the pressure coiling at the base of his spine. “Leo, I’m—”

“Not yet,” she snarled, her hand sliding between them. Her fingers found her clit, rubbing hard, frantic circles. “You come when I do. You wait for me.”

He gritted his teeth, his thrusts becoming shorter, desperate jerks as he fought the tide. He watched her face contort in pleasure, her perfect lips parted, her eyes squeezed shut. Her whole body tightened, a bowstring pulled to breaking.

“Now,” she gasped, her back arching off the steel. “Alex, now!”

Her release triggered his. She clenched around him in rhythmic, pulsing waves, and he shouted, burying himself to the hilt as he emptied into her, a deep, claiming flood that felt like it would never end. She milked him through every shudder, her own cries softening into sobs against his shoulder.

They collapsed together, trembling. He was still inside her, both of them slick and spent. Her hands, which had been claws, now smoothed over his sweat-slick back, tender. She turned her head, her lips brushing his ear.

“Mine,” she whispered, the word a soft, satisfied echo in the quiet studio.