The room was spinning.
Gie was weightless, boneless, completely wrecked beneath him, her body still trembling, still pulsing from the aftermath of his mouth. Her breath came in ragged pulls, her skin feverish, her fingers still buried in his hair as if she were afraid to let go.
But Alexander?
He wasn't done.
Not even close.
He pulled back slowly, his hands gliding up the insides of her shaking thighs, his lips brushing open-mouthed kisses over her hypersensitive skin. Each press of his mouth, each warm exhale against her flesh, made her tremble.
He leaned up and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply, then biting gently until she gasped.
"I love your beautiful, full breasts," he murmured, voice thick with lust.
A breathless laugh escaped her lips, equal parts embarrassed and aroused.
And when he settled between her legs again, when their eyes locked—dark, molten, filled with an intensity that stole her breath—she knew.
He was going to take her.
Utterly. Completely.
Without mercy.
And God, she wanted it.
She ached for him.
She watched, dazed, as he reached between them, gripping himself. His breath hitched as his fingers slid over the slick evidence of her desire coating his cock.
The look in his eyes made her entire body clench.
Like he was undone.
Like he was worshipping.
"Fuck," he muttered, voice heavy with arousal.
He dragged the head of his cock through her folds, coating himself in her wetness, teasing her entrance, brushing her clit just enough to make her gasp and twitch beneath him.
When she looked down—
When she saw him, thick and flushed and goddamn massive, pressing against her, poised to claim—
Her breath stuttered.
He was huge.
Too much.
"Alexander—"
He kissed her.
Slow. Deep.
He swallowed her whimper, her hesitation, kissing her like she was everything.
And then—
He pushed in.
The stretch was instant.
A sharp, aching burn that sent her spiraling, the pressure splitting her apart in the most devastating way. Her body fought to take him, to adjust, to make room for all of him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, a broken cry tearing from her lips as her back arched off the bed.
"Breathe, Gie," he whispered, brushing reverent kisses over her face—her temple, her cheeks, her jaw.
She tried.
But he was too thick. Too deep.
And he felt it too.
His breath was ragged, his jaw tight, muscles trembling as he held himself still, fighting not to move, not to overwhelm her.
"Christ," he groaned, voice wrecked. "You're so fucking tight. Taking me so well, baby."
Her body clenched at his words, her breath hitching, pulse wild.
He was barely halfway in—maybe less—and she already felt stretched to the edge.
"You feel it, don't you?" he rasped, his voice like velvet against her skin.
"How deep I am?"
She whimpered.
Of course she could feel it.
Every inch of him pulsed inside her, thick and slow, stretching her more than she thought possible.
And he wasn't even fully inside.
She could tell by the way his body shook, by the tension in his shoulders, by the raw restraint that poured off him.
Then—
He kissed her again.
And thrust the rest of the way in.
Her cry cracked the air, her hands clutching at him, her body arching as he buried himself to the hilt.
She could feel him in her stomach.
He groaned—deep, raw—his forehead pressed to hers.
"Fucking perfect."
His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging in, as if anchoring himself to her.
"Mine now," he murmured, rolling his hips.
Her breath caught, her fingers tangling in his hair, needing something to hold onto.
"Say it," he whispered, his voice like fire.
She couldn't speak.
Could barely think.
And then he moved again.
Slow. Deep.
Her whole world tilted.
"Say it, Gie," he rasped against her ear, his teeth brushing her skin. "Say you're mine."
"Yours," she cried, voice cracking. "Yours, Alexander."
Her body clenched around him and she came again—screaming, gripping him tighter, stars exploding behind her eyes as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.
His groan was broken, primal.
"Come for me again, Gie."
And then he truly fucked her.
Slow, devastating thrusts that stole her breath.
Then harder.
Faster.
Ruthless.
His mouth was everywhere—neck, collarbone, breasts, lips. Biting. Kissing. Sucking. Leaving his mark.
She was loud.
So fucking loud.
Moaning. Crying. Gasping his name again and again like she'd forgotten how to say anything else.
"The whole city's gonna hear you again, sweetheart," he groaned into her skin, his pace unrelenting.
"Let them," she sobbed.
And then she shattered.
Her orgasm slammed into her, brutal and blinding. She clenched around him, tighter than ever, crying out as she broke beneath him.
And then—
He followed.
His whole body tensed, his breath caught, his thrusts slowed—and then he drove deep, groaning her name as he came.
Hot. Heavy. Endless.
He collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck, kissing her through every last shudder.
Her heart was pounding. Her skin burned. Her body trembled beneath his.
And when he finally looked at her—eyes dark, full of something dangerous and possessive—
She knew.
She wasn't leaving this bed.
Not tonight.
Not ever.