The door closes and the latch falls with a sound like a verdict. The hearth swallows the silence, orange light licking up the granite walls, and I'm already turning her—my hand flat between her shoulder blades, pressing her down onto the furs that smell of cedar and the long night we've already burned through.

She gasps. Then she laughs—a low, daring sound that vibrates through her spine into my palm. She looks back at me over her shoulder, and the firelight catches the wild tangle of her chestnut hair, the curve of her jaw, the dark fire in her eyes that no man has ever managed to quench.

"You said you'd make me forget his name," she says, and her voice is a blade wrapped in silk. "Then take me like you mean it."

My grip tightens on her hips. I pull her ass back against me, and even through the thin silk of the green gown she feels the full heat of me—the hard length of my cock pressing into the cleft of her. She feels it. I watch her breath catch, watch her fingers curl into the dark fur of the pelt beneath her.

The floor is cold against her forearms. I see the gooseflesh rise on the backs of her arms, the way her spine arches when I lean over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear.

"I'll take you everywhere, Amara." My voice is a growl, low and total. "Every way. And when I'm done, you won't remember any name but mine."

She shivers. I feel it run through her like a current, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. And then she does something that undoes me—she presses her ass back against me, a deliberate, brazen roll of her hips, and says, "Prove it."

The silk of her gown is bunched at her waist. The cold air touches the bare skin of her thighs, and I watch the firelight carve the shadows of her body as I gather the fabric higher, baring her completely. The curve of her ass. The dark, wet heat between her legs that I can already smell—musk and woman and need.

"You have no idea," I say, and my voice is rough, scraped raw by the sight of her, "what you've just asked for."

She laughs again, that low, daring sound, and it's the most dangerous thing I've ever heard. "Then show me."

I grip her hips hard enough to bruise, and I pull her back against me, my cock sliding along the slick heat of her cunt. She's wet. So wet I can feel it through the silk of my own thoughts, the evidence of her desire smearing against my length. She gasps, her fingers clawing at the fur, and I do it again—drag her back against me, let her feel exactly what she's asking for.

"You feel that?" I murmur against her ear. "That's what you do to me. Every time I look at you, I'm hard. Every time you laugh, I want to fuck you until you can't remember your own name."

She whimpers. A small, broken sound that I swallow whole. And then she says, "Then do it."

I don't answer with words. I answer with my hand—flat between her shoulder blades, pressing her down until her cheek is against the scratchy dark fur of the pelt, the wooden floor humming through her body. She's bent over, her ass raised, her cunt open and glistening in the firelight, and I'm standing behind her like a man who's just found a god he didn't believe in.

"Look at you," I say, and my voice is almost reverent. "Look at what you do to me."

She looks back at me, her dark eyes half-lidded, her lips parted. "I'm not doing anything," she says. "You're the one who can't keep his hands off me."

I laugh. A raw, surprised sound that I didn't know I had in me. "You're right," I say. "I can't. I've never been able to. From the moment you stumbled into my study, I've been fucking you in my mind—every way I could think of. On the table. Against the wall. On the floor of the great hall with my crown on your head."

Her breath catches. "You think about that?"

"I think about nothing else." I slide my hand up her spine, feeling each vertebra, the shudder that runs through her at my touch. "I think about your mouth on my cock. I think about the sounds you make when I'm inside you. I think about the way you look at me like I'm the only man in the world."

"You are," she whispers. "You're the only man who's ever—"

I cut her off with my hand—two fingers sliding through her slick heat, finding her clit, circling it slowly. She gasps, her hips bucking against my hand, and I feel her thighs tremble.

"The only man who's ever what?" I murmur. "Tell me."

"The only man who's ever touched me," she breathes. "The only man who's ever—" She breaks off with a moan as I press my fingers deeper, finding the wet, tight heat of her cunt, feeling her clench around me.

"That's right," I say. "And you're the only woman who's ever touched me. The only woman I've ever wanted to touch." I lean down, my mouth at her ear, my voice a growl. "Do you understand what that means, Amara? Do you understand what you are to me?"

She shakes her head, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I work my fingers inside her.

"You're everything," I say. "You're the reason I wake up. The reason I breathe. The reason I'm about to fuck you into the floor until you forget every name but mine."

She moans, a low, desperate sound that I feel in my cock. "Then do it," she says. "Fuck me. I want to forget."

I pull my fingers out of her and grip her hips, positioning myself at her entrance. She's so wet I can feel it dripping down her thighs, and I slide the head of my cock through her slick folds, teasing her, watching her arch her back and push her ass against me.

"Please," she whispers. "Please, Kaelen."

The sound of my name on her lips is enough to undo me. I push inside her—slow, deliberate, watching her face as I fill her inch by inch. She gasps, her fingers clawing at the fur, her body stretching to take me, and I feel her cunt clench around me like she's trying to pull me deeper.

"That's it," I breathe. "Take all of me."

She does. I sink into her until I'm buried to the hilt, her ass pressed against my hips, her body trembling beneath mine. The firelight carves the edges of my jaw, my hands a solid weight on her hips, and I hold myself there for a moment, just feeling her—the heat of her, the tightness of her, the way she's already clenching around me like she never wants to let me go.

"Kaelen," she whispers, and her voice is broken, desperate. "Please. Move."

I don't move. Not yet. I lean over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear, and I say, "Not yet. You're not done learning your name."

She whimpers, her hips bucking against me, trying to take me deeper, and I grip her hips hard, holding her still.

"Look at me," I say.

She looks back at me over her shoulder, her dark eyes burning with need, and I see it—the fire that dominance never quenched, the strength that's never been broken. She is mine. She is not cattle. She is a queen.

"Once I begin," I say, and my voice is low, deliberate, "I don't stop. Not until every name but mine is gone."

She holds my gaze. "Then don't stop."

I slide deeper. Her eyes widen, her lips parting on a gasp, and I feel her cunt clench around me, pulling me in, claiming me as much as I'm claiming her. The hearth's orange light carves the edges of my jaw, and I feel the heat of her body against mine, the sweat already beading on her skin.

"Say my name," I murmur, and my thumb finds her pulse at her throat, pressing gently, feeling it jump beneath my touch. "Say it."

"Kaelen," she breathes, and the sound of it is a prayer, a confession, a surrender.

"Again."

"Kaelen."

The name leaves her lips like a rope thrown across a chasm, and I catch it. I hold it. I make it mean something.

My thumb still presses her pulse at her throat, that wild, frantic beat against my skin, and I feel it sync to the rhythm of my own heart until I can't tell where she ends and I begin. The firelight paints her in gold and shadow, the curve of her spine a bow drawn taut, and I am the arrow she's been waiting her whole life to loose.

"Again," I say, but softer now. Almost a plea. The Emperor of a hundred kingdoms, begging for his name on a woman's lips.

"Kaelen," she breathes, and this time it's different—not a prayer, not a surrender, but a claim. She says it like she owns it. Like she owns me.

And God help me, she does.

I begin to move.

Slow at first—a drag of my hips that pulls me almost all the way out before I push back in, watching her face contort with the pleasure of it, the way her mouth falls open on a silent gasp. I want to savor this. I want to draw it out until she's begging for release, until she's forgotten everything but the feel of me inside her.

"You feel that?" I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "That's me. That's the only man who's ever been inside you. The only man who ever will be."

She moans, her fingers clawing at the fur, her hips pushing back to meet me, trying to take me deeper. "Kaelen—"

"I know." I pull out until only the head remains, then slam back in, hard enough to make her cry out. "I know exactly what you need."

The sound of our bodies meeting fills the chamber—wet, rhythmic, obscene. The hearth crackles and spits, casting dancing shadows across the granite walls, and I watch the firelight carve the sweat-slicked hollow of her lower back, the flex of her ass as she takes me.

"You're so tight," I growl, and I feel her clench around me at the words. "So fucking wet for me. You were made for this. Made for my cock."

She whimpers, a broken sound that I feel in my bones. "Yes. Yes, Kaelen."

I grip her hips harder, my fingers digging into the soft flesh, and I set a rhythm—deep, punishing, relentless. Each thrust drives her forward, her cheek scraping against the fur, her breasts swinging beneath her, and I watch the way her body takes me, the way she opens for me like a flower to the sun.

"Look at you," I breathe. "Look at the mess you've made of me. I was a king before you. I was a fortress. And now I'm just a man who can't think of anything but being inside you."

She turns her head, her dark eyes finding mine over her shoulder, and there's something in them that undoes me—not just pleasure, not just need, but a reverence that mirrors my own. "You're not just a man," she says, her voice ragged. "You're mine."

The words hit me like a blade to the chest. I stop moving, buried to the hilt inside her, and I lean down until my chest is pressed against her back, my mouth at her ear, my voice raw. "Say that again."

"You're mine," she whispers. "You're mine, Kaelen. And I'm yours."

I close my eyes. I breathe her in—cedar and sweat and the musk of our coupling. And I feel something crack open in my chest, something I've kept locked for twelve years on a throne stained with blood. Something I didn't know I was still capable of.

"Then take me," I say, and my voice is broken in a way I've never let it be. "Take all of me, Amara. Every piece. I'm yours."

She reaches back, her hand finding the back of my neck, pulling me down until my forehead rests against her shoulder blade. And she holds me there, impaled on my cock, wrapped in the heat of the fire and the dark, and she says, "I have you."

I begin to move again, but it's different now. Slower. Deeper. Each thrust a vow, each withdrawal a promise to return. I slide my hand around her waist, finding her clit with my fingers, circling it in time with my strokes, and I feel her body begin to tremble, the telltale flutter of her cunt around me.

"Come for me," I murmur. "Come on my cock, Amara. Let me feel you."

She shakes her head, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Not yet. I want—" She breaks off on a moan as I thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars. "I want to feel you come first."

The words nearly undo me. I grip her hips, my rhythm faltering, and I growl, "You'll feel me come. I'll fill you so full you'll be dripping with me for hours. But first—" I press my thumb against her clit, hard. "—you come. Now."

She cries out, her body arching, her cunt clenching around me in wave after wave of release, and I watch it take her—the way her eyes roll back, the way her mouth falls open on a silent scream, the way her thighs shake beneath her. She is beautiful. She is devastating. She is mine.

I don't wait. I pull out just enough to feel the head of my cock catch on her rim, and then I slam back in, burying myself to the hilt as I come, my release flooding into her, hot and endless. I groan, low and animal, my forehead pressed to her spine, and I feel her cunt milk me, drawing out every last drop until I'm empty and shaking.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. We're joined, breathless, slick with sweat and release, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. And I feel something settle in my chest—a stillness I've never known, a peace I didn't think existed.

I pull out slowly, reluctantly, and I watch my cum leak from her, glistening in the firelight. She shivers, and I gather her in my arms, turning her to face me, cradling her against my chest. Her cheek rests over my heart, and I feel her breath slow, her body softening against mine.

"I meant it," I say, my voice rough. "Every name but mine. You won't remember his. You won't remember anyone's. Just mine."

She tilts her head up, her dark eyes soft and shining. "I don't want to remember anyone's. Just yours."

I kiss her forehead. Then her nose. Then her lips—soft, unhurried, a promise sealed in the dark. And when I pull back, I see the firelight catch a single tear on her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.

"What is it?" I ask.

She shakes her head, a small, wondering smile curving her lips. "I just never thought—" She swallows. "I never thought I'd be here. That anyone would ever—"

"Look at you like you're the whole world?" I finish. "Amara, you are. You're the only world I want to rule."

She laughs, that low, daring sound, and it vibrates through my chest. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm an emperor," I say. "It's the same thing."

She buries her face in my chest, and I feel her smile against my skin. The fire crackles. The night stretches on, endless and warm, and I hold her like she's the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.

Because she is.

The fur is warm beneath her, the hearth heat washing over us both as I lower her onto the pelt. For a moment I just look at her—the firelight painting her skin in shades of amber and shadow, her chestnut hair spread like a dark river across the black fur, her chest rising and falling with the aftershock of what we've already done. She is a painting. She is a prayer. She is mine.

"Stay there," I murmur, and I see the question flicker in her dark eyes. "Just for a moment. Let me look at you."

She doesn't move. Doesn't speak. But something softens in her face, a vulnerability she only lets me see, and I drink it in like a man dying of thirst. The curve of her hip. The swell of her breast. The faint sheen of sweat on her collarbone, catching the firelight like scattered stars.

"You're staring," she says, and there's a smile in her voice.

"I'm memorizing." I reach out, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw, the slope of her shoulder, the dip of her waist. "I want to remember every inch of you exactly like this. Burned into my mind. So that when I'm old and gray and ruling from a throne I don't care about anymore, I can close my eyes and see you here, in the firelight, mine."

Her breath catches. Something moves behind her eyes—a feeling she doesn't have words for yet, but I know it. I feel it too. It's the same thing that's been building in me since she stumbled into my study with terror in her eyes and fire in her soul.

"You won't need to remember," she says softly. "I'll be there. Beside you. On that throne you don't care about."

The words hit me like a blow to the chest. I lean down, my lips brushing hers, soft and slow, a promise I don't have words for yet. When I pull back, her eyes are shining, and I see the single tear that escapes down her cheek, catching the firelight like liquid gold.

"Hey," I say, brushing it away with my thumb. "What's this?"

She looks at me for a long moment, and I watch the tear I've brushed away leave a glistening trail on her cheek. Her lips part, then close. Then she reaches up, her fingers finding the back of my neck, pulling me down until my forehead rests against hers.

"It's nothing," she whispers. "It's everything. I don't know how to hold both at once."

I understand that. I've lived inside that contradiction for twelve years—the weight of a crown and the hollowness beneath it, power and emptiness sharing the same skin. But she's never had to carry either. She stumbled into my study with nothing but terror and fire, and now she's lying in the firelight telling me she'll sit beside me on a throne she never asked for.

"Then don't hold it," I tell her. "Let it be both. Let it just be."

She exhales, and I feel something loosen in her body—the tension she's been carrying since she burst through my door, the coiled spring that's been wound so tight I could feel it humming under her skin. It unspools now, slowly, and I watch her eyes go soft and dark and trusting.

"Kaelen," she says, and my name sounds different in her mouth. Like a prayer. Like a home I didn't know I was building.

I kiss her again, deeper this time, and I feel her respond—her lips parting, her tongue finding mine, her fingers tightening in my hair. The fire crackles. The night stretches. And I know, with a certainty that has nothing to do with crowns or thrones or the blood that stains my dynasty, that I will never be whole without this woman.

I pull back slowly, my breath ragged, and I look at her—really look at her. The firelight carving shadows into the hollow of her throat. The rise and fall of her chest. The way her dark eyes hold mine like she's afraid I'll vanish if she blinks.

"I want to hear you say it again," I murmur, my voice rough. "What you are to me."

She holds my gaze, and I see the smile that curves her lips—slow, knowing, devastating. "Yours," she whispers. "I'm yours."

The word hits me in the chest like a war hammer. I lower myself onto the fur beside her, propping myself on one elbow, and I trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertips, feeling her shiver under my touch.

"Again," I say.

"Yours."

"Again."

Her smile widens, and there's a dare in her eyes now, a challenge that makes my blood run hot. "Yours. Yours. Yours. How many times do I have to say it before you believe it?"

"Every day," I tell her. "For the rest of your life. That's how many times."

She laughs, that low, daring sound that vibrates through my chest and settles somewhere deep in my bones. "Then I'll say it every morning and every night. I'll say it in my sleep. I'll say it until the words wear smooth from use."

I kiss her again, hard, and I feel her melt into me—her body arching, her hands finding my shoulders, her legs parting to let me settle between them. The fur is warm beneath us, the hearth heat washing over our skin, and I feel the ache building in me again, the hunger that never quite leaves when I'm near her.

"Amara," I breathe against her lips. "I need—"

"I know," she whispers. "I need it too."

I slide my hand down her side, over the curve of her hip, and I feel her shiver as my fingers find the heat between her thighs. She's already slick, already ready, and I groan at the feel of her—the way she opens for me, the way her body remembers mine.

"Tell me," I murmur, my lips at her ear. "Tell me what you want."

She arches into my touch, her breath catching. "You. I want you. I want to feel you inside me again."

"Where?" I ask, and I feel her tremble. "I want to hear you say it."

"In my cunt," she gasps, and the word—raw, unashamed, falling from her lips like a confession—makes me ache with need. "I want your cock in my cunt. I want to feel you fill me."

I don't wait. I position myself at her entrance, and I watch her eyes go wide as I push inside her—slow, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around me, feeling her heat pull me deeper. She gasps, her hands gripping my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin.

"Yes," she breathes. "Yes, Kaelen. Like that."

I begin to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has us both gasping, and I feel the world narrow to this—the firelight, the fur, the woman beneath me. She is everything. She is the only thing. And I pour myself into her with every thrust, every breath, every whisper of her name.

"Look at me," I command, and her eyes find mine. "I want to see you. I want to watch you come apart."

She holds my gaze, her lips parted, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And I feel her cunt clench around me, the telltale flutter that means she's close, and I drive deeper, harder, chasing the edge with her.

"Come for me," I growl. "Come on my cock, Amara. Let me feel you."

She cries out, her body arching, her eyes rolling back as she comes—wave after wave of release that clenches around me, milking me, drawing me with her. And I follow, burying myself to the hilt as I come, my release flooding into her, hot and endless, until I'm empty and shaking and collapsed against her.

My weight settles over her, and for a long moment I don't move—just breathe her in, the salt and musk of her, the way her pulse hammers against my chest. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, and I feel the aftershocks still rippling through her, the way her thighs tremble around my hips.

"You're heavy," she murmurs, but her arms tighten around me, pulling me closer.

"You're warm." I nuzzle into the curve of her neck, tasting the salt on her skin. "I could stay here forever."

"Then stay." Her voice is soft, almost shy. "I'm not going anywhere."

The words settle into me like a stone dropping into still water. I lift my head to look at her, and I see it—the trust in her eyes, the way she looks at me like I'm the only man in the world. And I realize I want to be worthy of that look. I want to be the man she sees when she closes her eyes.

I shift, pulling out of her slowly, and she makes a small sound of protest that makes me smile. "I'm not done with you yet," I tell her, and I see the spark of interest flare in her dark eyes.

I stand, and she watches me with a question in her gaze. Then I reach down, my hands finding her waist, and I lift her off the fur as if she weighs nothing. She gasps, her hands gripping my shoulders, her legs wrapping around my hips.

"What are you—"

"I want you closer to the fire." I carry her the few steps to the thick fur spread before the hearth, the heat washing over us in waves. "I want to see you in the full light of it."

I lower her onto the pelt, and she lies back, her hair spreading around her like a dark halo. The firelight paints her skin in shades of amber and gold, and I drink her in—the rise and fall of her chest, the dark peaks of her nipples, the way her thighs fall open in silent invitation.

"You're beautiful," I breathe, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

She smiles, that slow, knowing curve that makes my blood run hot. "Then come here and show me how beautiful you think I am."

I stretch out beside her, propping myself on one elbow, and I trace the line of her jaw with my fingertips. "I want to take my time with you this time. Slow. Thorough. I want to learn every inch of your body until I know it better than my own."

Her breath catches. "That sounds like a promise."

"It is." I lean down, my lips brushing hers, soft and slow. "I'm going to worship you, Amara. Every inch. Every curve. Every secret place you've never shown anyone."

I kiss her again, deeper this time, and I feel her melt into me. My hand trails down her side, over the swell of her hip, and I feel her shiver under my touch.

"Turn over," I murmur against her lips.

She looks at me for a moment, a question in her eyes. Then she rolls onto her stomach, her cheek resting on the fur, and I watch the long line of her back—the dip of her waist, the curve of her ass, the graceful length of her legs.

I lean down, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, and I feel her shiver. I trail my lips down her spine, slowly, savoring each vertebra, and I hear her breath quicken.

"Kaelen," she whispers, and my name sounds like a prayer.

"Shh." I press a kiss to the small of her back. "Let me take my time."

I kiss the curve of her ass, and she gasps, her hips shifting. I smile against her skin, and I let my hands roam—over her thighs, her hips, the delicate bones of her shoulders. I'm memorizing her, the way I promised. Every inch of her skin is a map I want to learn by heart.

"You're so soft," I murmur. "So perfect."

"Kaelen—"

"I mean it." I press a kiss to the back of her thigh. "Every word. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I've ruled an empire. I've seen wonders that would make poets weep. But none of them hold a candle to you."

She turns her head to look at me, and I see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "No one's ever talked to me like this before."

"Then they were fools." I crawl up her body, my chest against her back, my lips at her ear. "I'm not a fool. I know what I have. And I'm never letting it go."

I reach beneath her, my hand finding the heat between her thighs, and I feel her slick and ready for me again. She gasps as my fingers find her clit, and I feel her body arch into my touch.

"Already wet for me again," I murmur. "I love how your body responds to me. How it remembers me."

"Kaelen, please—"

"Please what?" I circle her clit slowly, teasingly. "Tell me what you want."

"You," she breathes. "Inside me. I want to feel you inside me again."

I position myself at her entrance, and I push inside her slowly, feeling her stretch around me, feeling her heat pull me deeper. She moans, her fingers gripping the fur, and I feel her body clench around me.

"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, Kaelen. Like that."

I begin to move, slow and deep, and I feel the world narrow to this—the firelight, the fur, the woman beneath me. She is everything. She is the only thing. And I pour myself into her with every thrust, every breath, every whisper of her name.

"Look at me," I command, and she turns her head, her eyes finding mine. "I want to see you. I want to watch you come apart."

We lie there for a long moment, tangled in the fur, our breath ragged and mingling. The fire crackles. The night stretches. And I feel her hand find mine, her fingers lacing through my own.

"Kaelen," she whispers, and I hear the smile in her voice.

"Amara." I press a kiss to her shoulder. "My Amara."

She turns in my arms, her eyes meeting mine, and I see the tears that glisten there—not sadness, but something fuller, something that overflows. "I never thought I'd feel this," she says softly. "Safe. Wanted. Like I matter."

"You matter more than any crown I've ever worn," I tell her. "More than any throne I've ever sat. You're my queen, Amara. In every way that counts."

She reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, and I see the smile that curves her lips—slow, knowing, devastating. "I want to hear you say it again," she murmurs, echoing my words from earlier. "What I am to you."

I look down at her, the firelight carving shadows into the hollow of her throat, her dark eyes holding mine like she's afraid I'll vanish if she blinks. And I say the words that have been building in me since she stumbled into my study with terror in her eyes and fire in her soul.

"You're my queen," I tell her. "You're my heart. You're the only woman I've ever wanted, the only woman I'll ever need. You're mine, Amara. And I'm yours."

She holds my gaze, and I watch the single tear that escapes down her cheek, catching the firelight like liquid gold. "Yours," she whispers. "I'm yours."

I roll her beneath me in one motion, the fur swallowing her, her gasp swallowed by my mouth. She tastes like fire and surrender, like the word mine spoken in a language only our bodies know. Her legs part for me before I ask, her thighs cradling my hips, and I feel the slick heat of her against my cock—ready, wanting, already aching for what I'm about to give her.

I break the kiss, and she chases my mouth, a small sound of protest caught in her throat. I smile, slow and dark, and I let her see the hunger in my eyes.

"Patience," I murmur, and her pupils blow wide.

"I've been patient," she breathes. "I've been patient my whole life."

"And now?" My thumb traces the line of her jaw, the pulse fluttering beneath her skin like a trapped bird.

"Now I want to be greedy." Her voice is a dare, her hips rolling up against mine. "I want everything you have. Every time. Every way."

The words hit me low and hard, a fist of want that nearly steals my breath. I've conquered kingdoms with less ferocity than what burns in her eyes right now. She is not asking. She is claiming—and I have never wanted to be claimed more.

"Then take it," I growl, and I drive into her in one deep, brutal thrust.

She cries out, her back arching, her nails raking down my shoulders. "Yes—fuck, Kaelen—"

I pull out until only the head remains, then slam back in, burying myself to the hilt. Her cunt clenches around me, hot and greedy, pulling me deeper. I do it again, and again, a rhythm that is less making love and more conquest—each thrust a declaration, each withdrawal a tease, each re-entry a vow.

"Look at me," I command, and her eyes snap to mine, dark and glazed with pleasure. "I want to watch you come apart. I want to see the exact moment you forget every name that isn't mine."

Her lips part, a broken sound escaping her. "Kaelen—"

"That's it." I angle my hips, hitting that spot inside her that makes her whole body shudder. "Say my name like you mean it."

"Kaelen. Kaelen—" Her voice breaks, and I feel her start to tighten around me, that flutter that tells me she's close.

I slow, pulling almost all the way out, and she whimpers in protest. "Not yet," I say, my voice ragged. "I'm not done with you."

"Then don't stop." She reaches up, her fingers tangling in my hair, yanking my mouth down to hers. She kisses me like she's starving, like I'm the only meal she's ever been offered, and I feel the raw edge of her desperation—the years of emptiness, the hunger she never knew she carried until I filled her.

I kiss her back, deep and claiming, and I let my hand slide between us, my thumb finding her clit. She gasps against my mouth, her hips bucking, and I circle her slowly, deliberately, drawing out the pleasure until she's trembling beneath me.

"I could do this all night," I murmur against her lips. "Worship you until you forget your own name, let alone his."

"Then do it." Her voice is fierce, demanding. "Make me forget."

I pull out of her, and she makes a sound of protest that turns to a gasp as I flip her onto her stomach, dragging her hips up. I position myself behind her, my hands gripping her waist, and I slam into her from behind in one deep, possessive thrust.

She cries out, burying her face in the fur, her fingers clawing at the pelt. "Yes—yes, Kaelen, like that—"

I grip her hips, setting a brutal pace, each thrust driving her into the fur. The firelight paints her skin in shades of amber and gold, the sweat glistening on her back, and I am consumed by the sight of her—the curve of her spine, the swell of her ass, the way she takes me so completely, so perfectly.

"You feel that?" I growl, my hand sliding around her hip, my fingers finding her clit again. "You feel how deep I am inside you? How far I've claimed you?"

"Yes," she gasps. "Kaelen—yes—"

"You're mine, Amara." I thrust deeper, harder, and I feel her start to shudder around me. "Every inch of you. Every breath. Every drop of pleasure I pull from your body. Mine."

She comes with a cry, her body clenching around me, and I feel the wave of it pull me under. I follow her, spilling into her with a groan, my forehead pressed to her back, my breath ragged and hot against her skin.

We stay like that for a long moment, joined and trembling, the fire crackling beside us. I feel her pulse fluttering beneath my lips, and I press a kiss to the nape of her neck.

"Amara," I whisper, her name a prayer, a vow, a claim.

She turns her head, her eyes finding mine, and I see the tears that glisten there—not sadness, but something fuller, something that overflows. "I never thought I'd feel this," she says softly. "Safe. Wanted. Like I matter."

"You matter more than any crown I've ever worn," I tell her, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "More than any throne I've ever sat. You're my queen, Amara. In every way that counts."

She reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, and I see the smile that curves her lips—slow, knowing, devastating. "I want to hear you say it again," she murmurs. "What I am to you."

I pull out of her slowly, and she makes a small sound of protest that makes me smile. I roll her onto her back, settling between her thighs, and I look down at her—the firelight carving shadows into the hollow of her throat, her dark eyes holding mine like she's afraid I'll vanish if she blinks.

I lean down, kissing the tear from her cheek, tasting the salt of her surrender. "I'm going to make you a promise," I murmur against her skin. "And I need you to hear it."

She stills beneath me, her eyes searching mine. "What promise?"

I pull back, looking at her—really looking at her, the woman who stumbled into my study with terror in her eyes and fire in her soul, the woman who has somehow become the center of my world in a single night.

"Before the week is out," I say, my voice low and rough, "I'm going to have you on the floor of the great hall. With my crown on your head. And every lord, every lady, every servant in this fortress will watch as I claim you in front of them all."

Her breath catches, her eyes widening. "Kaelen—"

"They'll know," I continue, my thumb tracing the line of her collarbone, "exactly who you are. Exactly what you mean to me. They'll see the woman who conquered their emperor, and they'll kneel to her just as they kneel to me."

She stares at me, and I see the war in her eyes—the fear, the want, the disbelief. "You can't mean that."

"I've never meant anything more." I lean down, my lips brushing hers. "You're not a secret, Amara. You're not a shame. You're my queen, and the world is going to know it."

She kisses me then, fierce and desperate, and I feel her hands fisting in my hair, pulling me closer. "Then take me," she breathes against my lips. "Take me like you mean it."

I growl against her mouth, my cock already hardening again at the challenge in her voice. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Good." Her smile is sharp, daring. "At least I'll die happy."

I laugh, a low, rough sound that surprises us both. "You're something else, Amara Delacroix."

"I know." She arches beneath me, her thighs falling open. "Now show me what you promised."

I don't need to be told twice. I slide into her again, slow and deep, and I feel her sigh of satisfaction against my lips. We move together in the firelight, a rhythm as old as time, and I lose myself in her—in the heat of her, the taste of her, the way she gasps my name like it's the only word she remembers.

"Kaelen," she whispers, her voice breaking. "Kaelen, I—"

"I know." I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. "I know, my queen. I feel it too."

She comes with a sob, her body clenching around me, and I follow her over the edge, spilling into her with a groan that sounds like her name. We lie tangled in the fur, our breath ragged and mingling, the fire crackling softly beside us.

"Kaelen," she murmurs, her voice drowsy and soft.

"Amara." I press a kiss to her hair, her temple, the corner of her mouth. "My Amara."

She smiles, her eyes drifting closed, and I feel her hand find mine, her fingers lacing through my own. "I could stay here forever," she whispers.

"Then stay." I pull her closer, her back against my chest, my arm wrapped around her like a shield. "Stay forever. Stay until the fire burns low and the world outside forgets we exist."

"And then?"

"Then we build a new world." I press a kiss to her shoulder. "One where you're my queen, and I'm your emperor, and nothing—no one—comes between us."

She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my forearm. "What if they don't accept me?" she asks softly. "Your court. Your people. What if they see me as what I was—a girl sold like livestock—and not what I've become?"

"Then they'll learn." My voice is steel. "They'll learn that you're the woman who broke through walls no army could breach. The woman who made an emperor kneel. They'll learn that you're not a girl who was sold—you're a queen who chose to stay."

She turns in my arms, her eyes meeting mine, and I see the fear and the hope warring in her gaze. "And if I'm not enough?"

"You're more than enough." I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing the tears from her cheeks. "You're everything, Amara. Everything I never knew I needed. Everything I'll never let go."

She kisses me then, soft and slow, and I feel the last of her resistance crumble. "I love you," she whispers against my lips, and the words hit me like a blow—sacred, terrifying, perfect.

"I love you too," I breathe, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "More than any crown, any throne, any empire. More than my own life."

She smiles, that slow, devastating curve that makes my blood run hot. "Then show me."

I roll her beneath me, my body covering hers, and I feel her legs wrap around my hips. "I'll show you every day for the rest of our lives," I promise, and I slide into her again, slow and deep, claiming her in the firelight.

She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I feel her body arch into mine. "Kaelen—"

"Say it again." I thrust deeper, harder. "Say my name like you mean it."

"Kaelen." Her voice breaks. "Kaelen, I love you. I love you, I love you, I—"

I kiss her, swallowing the words, and I pour everything I am into the motion—the thrust, the heat, the desperate need to be closer, deeper, more. She meets me stroke for stroke, her body moving with mine in perfect rhythm, and I feel the world narrow to this—the firelight, the fur, the woman beneath me.

We come together, our bodies shuddering, our cries mingling, and I collapse against her, my forehead pressed to hers, my breath ragged and hot.

"Amara," I whisper, her name a vow, a prayer, a promise.

"Kaelen." Her voice is soft, sated, full of wonder. "My emperor."

I smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "My queen."

She laughs, a low, breathless sound that makes my heart stutter. "I like the sound of that."

"Good." I pull her closer, settling her against my chest. "Because you're going to hear it for the rest of your life."

She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "Kaelen?"

"Hmm?"

"The great hall." She tilts her head up, her eyes meeting mine. "Did you mean it? About the crown, and the floor, and claiming me in front of everyone?"

I look down at her, the firelight dancing in her dark eyes, and I feel the weight of the promise settle over me. "Every word."

She smiles, slow and daring, and I see the spark of mischief that flares in her gaze. "Then I suppose I'll have to make sure I'm ready."

"Ready?" I arch an eyebrow. "Ready for what?"

"To be your queen." She reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "To stand beside you and rule this empire. To make them all see that I'm not just the woman you chose—I'm the woman who chose you."

I feel my heart swell, a warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the fire. "You already are, Amara. You've been my queen since the moment you stumbled into my study with terror in your eyes and fire in your soul."

"Then show me." Her voice is a dare, her hips rolling against mine. "Show me what it means to be yours."

I growl, rolling her beneath me, and I feel her laugh against my lips. "You're insatiable."

"You made me this way." She arches beneath me, her thighs falling open. "Now take responsibility."

I laugh, a low, rough sound that surprises us both. "I'll take responsibility for the rest of my life," I promise, and I slide into her again.

She gasps, her body arching into mine, and I feel the world narrow to this—the firelight, the fur, the woman beneath me. She is everything. She is the only thing. And I pour myself into her with every thrust, every breath, every whisper of her name.

"Kaelen," she breathes, her voice breaking. "Kaelen, I'm—"

"I know." I kiss her, deep and claiming. "Come for me, my queen. Let me feel you."

She comes with a cry, her body clenching around me, and I follow her over the edge, spilling into her with a groan that sounds like her name. We lie tangled in the fur, our breath ragged and mingling, the fire crackling softly beside us.

"Kaelen," she murmurs, her voice drowsy and soft.

"Amara." I press a kiss to her hair. "My Amara."

She laughs, a low, breathless sound. "And if the world doesn't forget?"

"Then I'll remind them." I press a kiss to her shoulder. "I'll remind them that you're my queen, and I'll have you on the great hall floor with my crown on your head before the week is out."

She tilts her head up, her eyes meeting mine, and I see the challenge that flares in her gaze. "You think you can handle me?"

I smile, slow and dark. "I think I can handle anything you throw at me, my queen."

She laughs, the sound bright and free, and she pushes me onto my back, straddling my hips. "Then let's see how long you last."

I feel my cock harden beneath her, and I groan. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Good." She leans down, her lips brushing mine. "At least I'll die happy."

I growl, my hands gripping her hips, and I feel her laugh against my lips. "You're something else, Amara Delacroix."

"I know." She rocks against me, slow and deliberate, and I feel the heat building between us. "Now show me what you promised."

I don't need to be told twice. I grip her hips, guiding her onto my cock, and I feel her sigh of satisfaction as she takes me deep. We move together in the firelight, a rhythm as old as time, and I lose myself in her—in the heat of her, the taste of her, the way she gasps my name like it's the only word she remembers.

"Kaelen," she breathes, her voice breaking. "Kaelen, I—"

"I know." I reach up, my thumb finding her clit, and I feel her shudder. "Come for me, my queen. Let me watch you."

She comes with a cry, her body clenching around me, and I follow her over the edge, spilling into her with a groan that sounds like her name. She collapses against my chest, her breath ragged and hot against my skin, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

"Kaelen," she whispers, her voice soft and sated.

"Amara." I press a kiss to her hair. "My Amara."

She smiles, her eyes drifting closed, and I feel the warmth of her settle over me like a blanket. The fire crackles. The night stretches. And I hold her, my queen, my heart, my everything—and I know, with a certainty that shakes me to my core, that I will never let her go.

"Before the week is out," I murmur against her hair, "I'll have you on the great hall floor. With my crown on your head. And every lord, every lady, every servant will see exactly who you are."

She tilts her head up, her eyes meeting mine, and I see the smile that curves her lips—slow, knowing, devastating. "And who am I?"

"Mine," I say, the word a vow. "You're mine, Amara. And I'm yours."

She laughs, a low, daring sound, and she kisses me, deep and claiming. "Then prove it."

I growl against her mouth, rolling her beneath me, and I feel her legs wrap around my hips. "I'll prove it every day for the rest of our lives," I promise, and I slide into her again, claiming her in the firelight.

"Kaelen," she murmurs, her voice drowsy and soft.

"Amara." I press a kiss to her hair. "My Amara."

She laughs, the sound bright and free, and she pushes herself up, straddling my hips. "Then let's see how long you last."

"Amara." I press a kiss to her hair. "My Amara."

The fire crackles. The night stretches. And I hold her, my queen, my heart, my everything—and I feel the promise of the great hall settle over us like a shroud, the challenge in her eyes a dare I intend to answer before the week is out.

I feel the weight of her words settle into my bones—"then prove it"—and the firelight catches the challenge in her eyes, that dare that undoes me every time. She is sprawled across my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the hair on my sternum, and I can feel the slow, satisfied pulse of her heartbeat against my ribs. The crown still lies forgotten on the floor, glinting like a promise I intend to keep.

"The great hall," I say, and my voice comes out rough, still wrecked from the way she rides me. "You want to know what it will look like."

Her fingers still. She tilts her head up, those dark eyes finding mine. "I want to know what you see when you picture it."

I turn us, shifting until she's tucked against my side and I can look at her properly. The fire paints her in gold and shadow, her chestnut hair a wild halo against the fur, and I think—not for the first time—that she was made for this light. Made for this room. Made for me.

"I see the doors thrown open," I tell her, and the words come slow, deliberate, the way I'd plan a campaign. "The whole court assembled—every lord who's ever whispered about my empty throne, every lady who's ever angled for my attention. They'll be there, all of them, dressed in their finest, thinking they know what's coming."

She smiles, slow and dangerous. "And what do they think is coming?"

"A coronation. A formality. Some girl the Emperor dragged out of nowhere, probably with dirt still on her heels." I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "They'll think they're about to watch me make a mistake."

"And instead?"

"Instead, they'll watch me kneel."

Her breath catches. I feel it—the way her body goes still against mine, the way her eyes widen just a fraction before she schools her expression. "You wouldn't."

"I would." I hold her gaze, letting her see the truth of it. "I've knelt for no one, Amara. Not for my uncle's throne, not for the generals who wanted me to bend, not for any council or court or country. But I'll kneel for you. In front of all of them. I'll put my crown on your head with my own hands, and I'll let every one of them see what it means to be chosen by me."

She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers still against my chest. Then she traces the line of my collarbone, slow and deliberate, and I feel the tremor in her touch.

"And the lords?" she asks. "The ones who'll whisper behind their hands?"

"Let them whisper." I catch her wrist, bringing her fingers to my lips. "They'll kneel too. All of them. They'll kneel to you, or they'll answer to me."

"Kaelen—"

"I mean it." My voice drops, low and hard. "You are not some passing fancy. You're not a conquest or a whim. You're my queen, Amara. The only woman who's ever made me feel like I was missing something before I had it. And I'll make them see it. I'll make them understand that when they look at you, they're looking at the woman who holds my heart in her hands."

She's silent, her eyes searching mine. I can see the war in them—the doubt that's been planted there by a man who sold her like livestock, the fear that this is too good to be true, the hunger for something she's never let herself want.

"They'll kneel to you," I repeat, the words a vow. "Every lord. Every lady. Every servant who's ever wondered if I had a heart. They'll kneel, and they'll know—the moment they see you standing there with my crown on your head—that you own me. Completely. Irrevocably."

Her hand stops over my heart, her palm flat against my skin, and I feel the heat of it like a brand.

"Then I will make them mean it," she whispers, and the fire pops beside us, a sharp crack that punctuates her words like a seal stamped into wax.

I stare at her, this woman who stumbled into my study with terror in her eyes and fire in her soul, who declared herself no man's cattle in front of half my court, who looks at me like I'm the one who's been conquered. And I feel something crack open in my chest—something I didn't know was closed.

"You already do," I tell her, and my voice is raw in a way it never is, not in war rooms or throne rooms, not in front of generals or ambassadors. Only here. Only her. "You make them mean it every time you look at me."

She smiles, that slow, devastating smile that undoes me every time, and she pushes herself up, straddling my hips. The fur falls away from her shoulders, and I drink her in—the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the way the firelight paints her like something out of a dream.

"Then let me practice," she says, and her voice is a dare. "Let me practice being your queen."

I reach up, my hands finding her hips, and I feel the heat of her skin beneath my palms. "And how would you practice that?"

"Like this." She leans down, her lips brushing mine. "I'd start by taking what I want."

"And what do you want?"

"You." The word is a breath against my mouth. "All of you. Every part. Every time. Until I can't remember what it felt like to be anything but yours."

I growl, my hands tightening on her hips, and I feel her laugh against my lips—that bright, free sound that makes my chest ache. "You already have all of me, Amara. You've had all of me since the moment you walked into my study."

"Then show me." She rocks against me, slow and deliberate, and I feel myself harden beneath her. "Show me what it means to be yours."

I don't need to be told twice. My hands slide up her flanks, fingers sinking into the soft give of her hips as I pull her down against me—the heat of her cunt pressing against my hardening cock, slick and hungry. She's already wet. Of course she is. She's been dripping for me since the word "kneel" left my mouth, I'd wager.

"You want to practice," I say, and my voice is gravel. "Then practice on me. Take what you want, Amara. I'm yours to command."

Her eyes flash in the firelight, that dark fire that never quite banks. She reaches down between us, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, and I hiss through my teeth as she strokes me slow—deliberate, exploratory, the way she does everything. Like she's memorizing the shape of me. The weight. The way I twitch in her grip.

"Command," she repeats, tasting the word. "And if I command you to lie still?"

"Then I lie still."

"And if I command you to watch me?"

"I watch." My hands tighten on her hips. "I watch every inch of you take what's yours."

She smiles, slow and devastating, and I feel the truth of it low in my gut—this woman was born to wear a crown. Born to rule. The man who sold her saw cattle; I see the woman who will kneel the world. She lifts herself, positioning the head of my cock at her entrance, and holds there—just there—the heat of her threatening to swallow me whole.

"Then watch," she whispers, and sinks down.

I groan, long and low, as she takes me inch by inch—her cunt hot and tight around me, pulling me deeper, claiming me. She rides me slow, rolling her hips in a rhythm that's all her own, and I let her. I let her take everything she wants, my hands on her hips, my eyes on her face, watching the way her lips part, the way her lashes flutter, the way she looks at me like I'm the one being conquered.

"This," she breathes, and the word catches. "This is what it means to be yours."

"No." I reach up, my hand finding the back of her neck, pulling her down until her forehead rests against mine. "This is what it means to be mine, Amara. You're not being taken. You're being chosen. There's a difference."

Her rhythm falters. I feel her body go still around me, and when she pulls back to look at me, her eyes are wet—not with tears, but with something brighter. Something that cracks open in her chest and shows me the girl who was sold like livestock, who was dragged through the city, who was told she was nothing.

"No one has ever chosen me," she says, and her voice is small in a way it never is. "Not really. Not like this."

I cup her face, my thumbs brushing the hollows beneath her eyes. "Then let me be the first. Let me choose you every day, in front of every lord and lady and soldier who ever doubted you. Let me put my crown on your head and my ring on your finger and my name on your tongue—"

"Kaelen."

"—until the whole world knows that you belong to me, and I belong to you, and there is no version of this story where you are anything less than my queen."

She stares at me, and I watch the war in her eyes—the doubt fighting the hope, the fear fighting the hunger. And then she moves. She rolls her hips, slow and deep, and I feel her tighten around me, pulling me deeper, and I let her. I let her take everything she wants, because she's earned it. Because she's always been mine, even before she knew it.

"Then make me your queen," she says, and her voice is a command. "Make me forget every name but yours."

I growl, and I flip us—fast, the way I move in war, the way I move when something is mine and I need to claim it. She gasps, then laughs, that bright, free sound that makes my chest ache, and she looks up at me from the furs, her hair a wild halo around her face, her body open and ready beneath me.

"Then take me," she says, and her voice is a dare. "Take me like you mean it."

I grip her hips, pulling her ass against me, and I push inside her in one stroke—deep, hard, the way she wants it, the way I need it. She moans, her head falling back, and I watch her face as I move—slow at first, then faster, building a rhythm that's all mine, all claim, all possession.

"You're mine," I growl, the words torn from my chest. "Every inch of you. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Say it."

"Yours," she gasps, her nails raking down my back. "I'm yours, Kaelen. I'm yours."

I take her like that—hard and fast, the way I take a fortress, the way I take a throne. She meets me thrust for thrust, her body arching into mine, her moans filling the room. And when she comes, it's with my name on her lips, her cunt clenching around me, pulling me over the edge with her.

I spill into her with a groan, my forehead pressed to hers, my body shaking with the force of it. And when I finally pull back, when I look at her—flushed and beautiful and mine—I see the truth in her eyes. The same truth that's been burning in my chest since she stumbled into my study.

"I'll make them kneel," I promise, my voice rough. "All of them. And when they do, they'll see you wearing my crown. And they'll know—the moment they see you standing there—that you own me. Completely. Irrevocably."

Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, slow and deliberate, and I feel the tremor in them—the aftershock of what we just did, or something deeper. Something she's still learning to name. "You keep saying that word. Irrevocably. Like it scares you."

"It doesn't scare me." I catch her wrist, pressing my lips to the inside of it, where her pulse still races. "It anchors me. There's a difference."

"Is there?" She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me properly. The firelight carves shadows into the hollow of her throat, and I want to press my mouth there. I want to taste the salt of her skin and the truth of her words. "Because you said it like a man bracing for impact. Like you're waiting for the ground to open up and swallow this whole thing whole."

I go still. She sees too much, this woman. She always has—from the moment she stumbled into my study with terror in her eyes and fire in her soul, she's been reading me like a map I didn't know I'd drawn.

"I've ruled for twelve years," I say slowly. "I've held this throne through wars and famines and coups. I've never once been afraid of losing any of it." I reach up, brushing a strand of chestnut hair from her face, letting my thumb trace the curve of her cheek. "I'm afraid of losing you. That's what irrevocable means, Amara. It means I've finally found something I can't replace."

Her breath catches. I feel it—the way her body goes still against mine, the way her eyes soften in the firelight. "Kaelen—"

"I mean it." My voice drops, low and rough. "Every word. You asked what I see when I picture the great hall. I see you. Standing at the top of those steps with my crown on your head and the whole world at your feet. And I see me, kneeling at the bottom of them, knowing I've finally done something right."

She's quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the hair on my chest. Then she pushes herself up, straddling my hips, the fur falling away from her shoulders. The firelight paints her in gold and shadow, and I drink her in—the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the way she looks at me like I'm the one who's been conquered.

"And the lords?" she asks, her voice a dare. "The ones who'll whisper behind their hands?"

"Let them whisper." I reach up, my hands finding her hips. "They'll kneel too. All of them. They'll kneel to you, or they'll answer to me."

"You can't make every lord in the realm kneel, Kaelen."

"I can." My voice is steel. "I've done harder things. I took this throne from my uncle's blood. I've held it against every army that's come for it. You think I can't make a few hundred nobles bend their knees to the woman I love?"

She smiles, slow and devastating. "You love me."

"I do." The words come easy now, easier than they ever have with anyone else. "I love you, Amara. I've loved you since the moment you looked at me with those eyes full of fire and told me you weren't cattle. I'll love you until the day I die, and probably after that, if the old gods are feeling generous."

She leans down, her lips brushing mine. "Then let me practice," she whispers. "Let me practice being your queen."

"And how would you practice that?"

"Like this." She rocks against me, slow and deliberate, and I feel myself harden beneath her. "I'd start by taking what I want."

"And what do you want?"

I growl, my hands tightening on her hips. "You already have all of me, Amara. You've had all of me since the moment you walked into my study."

"Then show me." She reaches down between us, her fingers wrapping around my shaft, and I hiss through my teeth as she strokes me slow—deliberate, exploratory, the way she does everything. "Show me what it means to be yours."

I don't need to be told twice. I guide her up, positioning the head of my cock at her entrance, and hold there—just there—the heat of her threatening to swallow me whole. Her eyes find mine, dark and hungry, and I see the question in them.

"Take what's yours," I tell her, my voice gravel. "I'm yours to command."

She sinks down, inch by inch, her cunt hot and tight around me, and I groan long and low. She rides me slow at first, rolling her hips in a rhythm that's all her own, and I let her. I let her take everything she wants, my hands on her hips, my eyes on her face, watching the way her lips part, the way her lashes flutter, the way she looks at me like she's the one holding the reins.