Beau sank into me like prayer—slow, deep, reverent. "God, sugar," he breathed. "You feel like sin and salvation all wrapped in fire."
I moaned into his mouth, biting his lip as he started to move.
Every thrust was perfect. He fucked me like he meant it—like it mattered. Like I was the only damn thing in the world that had ever truly satisfied him.
Beau wasn't just touching my body, he was offering it everything he had without saying a single word.
"I'm yours," he whispered, voice cracking. "You already know that. But this..." He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. "This is my soul, sugar. No flames. No ritual. Just you...you own it."
I blinked at him, heat and tears rising together. With a soft smile, he kissed them away.
And then he fucked me harder.
