Her knees trembled as his mouth moved against her.

Elara clutched the cold marble of the bathroom counter for support, her head tilting back, a helpless sound escaping her lips as Caelin’s tongue licked into her—slow, reverent, and then devastatingly deliberate.

Every stroke. Every flick. Every suck.

Designed to wreck her.

Her breath hitched. Legs buckled.

She would’ve crumpled to the floor if not for his strong grip anchoring her to him, one arm locked around her thigh, the other pressed firmly against her lower back, pinning her open for his mouth.

“Caelin,” she gasped, fingers threading through his dark hair. “Please—I can’t—”

He growled into her, the vibration making her jolt and cry out. “Yes, you can. And you will.”

And she did.

Her orgasm tore through her like lightning snapping a wire—sudden, white-hot, completely uncontrollable. She shattered with his name on her lips, her thighs clamping around his head as she rode every wave.

He didn’t let up.

He devoured her.

Dragging her through aftershock after aftershock until she was shaking against the counter, half-standing, half-collapsed, tears prickling the corners of her eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

When she finally managed to breathe, he rose—his chin slick, his eyes blazing.

Still hard.

Still starved.

“Thought I was done?” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “We’re just getting started.”

He spun her around before she could even process the words. Her back hit the mirror, the cool glass shocking against her heated skin. She gasped as his hands gripped the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up—her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

“Caelin—wait—!”

He didn’t.

He thrust into her in one deep, claiming stroke, and the scream that tore from her throat was pure, wild need.

“Gods—” she gasped, nails raking down his back as he filled her.

She was still trembling from the last orgasm, oversensitive and aching—and he didn’t give her a second to adjust. His hips moved with powerful, relentless purpose, his hands bruising her thighs as he held her pinned against the mirror, every thrust lifting her slightly off the counter with its force.

“You feel that?” he groaned against her throat, his breath hot. “How tight you still are? How perfectly you fit me?”

She could barely breathe.

Could barely think.

All she could do was cling to him, her forehead pressed against his, their breath mingling in shallow gasps and moans. His name became a chant on her lips, each syllable breaking on a sob of pleasure as he drove into her over and over.

She tightened around him, another climax threatening to crest too fast.

“No—too much—” she whimpered.

“Too good,” he corrected with a feral grin, reaching between them to find her clit. “Come for me again, Elara. I want to feel you break while I'm inside you.”

The pressure of his thumb—the angle of his hips—the growl in his voice—

She shattered again, stars exploding behind her eyes, her scream echoing off the tiled walls as she clenched around him, pulsing in time with the frantic beating of her heart.

Caelin didn’t stop.

He cursed and buried his face in her neck, thrusting through her climax, his pace feral now—desperate. It wasn’t just about pleasure anymore. It was about possession.

About claiming what was his.

When he came, it was with a roar that seemed to shake the walls. His entire body tensed as he emptied himself into her, holding her tight like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And maybe she was.

They stayed like that, tangled and breathless, the sound of their panting filling the space between the steam-fogged mirrors.

Elara felt boneless, her limbs weak, her body pulsing with the kind of exhaustion that only came after being thoroughly, completely wrecked.

He brushed a kiss against her jaw. “You okay?”

She gave a small, breathless laugh. “Ask me that when I can feel my legs again.”

He grinned.

But he didn’t set her down.

No.

Instead, he adjusted his hold, scooping her more firmly into his arms. Her eyes widened.

“Caelin—what are you doing?”

“Carrying you,” he said simply, stepping out of the bathroom. “We’re not finished.”

Her heart skipped.

The world blurred past her—the warmth of his body, the scent of sex on their skin, the sheets rumpled from their earlier struggle. She thought he might lay her down gently. Let her rest.

But no.

He walked to the bed and dropped her.

She landed with a soft bounce and a squeak, limbs sprawled. “Seriously?!”

Before she could scramble upright, he was on her again—flipping her over, pressing her chest to the mattress, guiding her knees apart with unyielding hands.

“Caelin!”

His hand smoothed down her spine, possessive. Reverent.

He leaned over her, his voice a growl in her ear.

“You didn’t think I was done claiming what’s mine, did you?”

Her pulse thundered.

And when he nudged into her from behind, already hard again, she let out a strangled sound—half shock, half thrilled anticipation.

“Again?” she gasped, breath hitching.

He chuckled darkly, gripping her hips.

“Again.”