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I thought I was dreaming of him again. We were having dinner, then he led me to his room, and we did it. It felt so vivid—the sting between my legs, the lingering taste of his kisses, the warmth of his touch—yet I believed it was just another one of those torturous dreams. But when I felt the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath my cheek, the solid muscle under my hand, and the strong arm wrapped possessively around me, I knew. Last night wasn’t a dream. It was as real as the man holding me now.
Relief washed over me, a quiet contentment settling where I had expected regret. I looped my arm around him, just to feel that solidity once more.
“You’re awake…” he murmured, pulling me even closer. “Now tell me, what’s going on in that head?”
I shook my head, burying my face in his chest, inhaling him to be sure it wasn’t some lingering fantasy.
“If it’s another dream, I don’t want to wake up,” I finally said, glancing up at him. He had clearly been awake for a while, watching me.
“If it is a dream, then I’ll build a monument just to commemorate it,” he teased. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you right here in my bed.”
I laughed softly, “No wonder I kept dreaming about you. You were behind all those dreams, weren’t you?”
He chuckled, low and rich. “You still think I can read minds and control dreams?”
“Who knows what you’re capable of?” I shrugged, tracing lazy circles on his chest.
He caught my hand before it could roam any lower, his eyes darkening. “Why don’t you just admit you’ve been thinking about me as much as I think about you? Is that so hard?”
I smirked, my fingers teasing his skin. “Well… if you put it that way, does it make me sound like a pervert?”
His grip on my hand tightened. “Stop doing that.”
"Or what?" I challenged, letting my fingertips brush dangerously close.
In an instant, he flipped me onto my back, pinning my hands above my head with a roughness that sent a thrill through me. “Or I’ll start wanting something that I might not be able to stop,” he growled.
His body settled between my legs, the weight of him hard and unmistakable. His red eyes were darker now as he nudged my legs open, his length pressing teasingly against me. He moved his length slowly and I moaned softly at the sensation of him sliding up and down my slit, torturing me with the promise of more.
“Then why are you hesitating?” I breathed, teasing him further by spreading my legs wider, inviting him to take me.
His eyes darkened with a mix of challenge and lust. “You’re going to pay for that, sweetie,” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. His length continued its slow, tantalizing glide against me, every pass sending waves of heat through my core. The teasing was maddening, driving me to the brink of insanity. I needed more—needed to feel him, to make sure this was real and not another fleeting dream. But most of all, I needed him inside me, filling me completely, just to prove how real it was. How real he was.
Without warning, I flipped us, catching him by surprise as I straddled him, taking control. “How about this as payment?” I murmured, my lips brushing his as I kissed him deeply, my body pressing against his. The hunger in his kiss matched my own, and I could feel the urgency building between us. I kissed him with everything I had, savoring him, tasting him, but it wasn’t enough.
I pulled away, letting my lips trail down his jaw, over the stubble of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under my mouth. My kisses drifted lower, down to his chest, where I paused to lick and bite gently, earning a low groan from him. His hands moved restlessly on my thighs, squeezing as I continued my descent, my lips tracing a path down his hard stomach, until I reached the base of his length.
I looked up at him, catching his gaze, and the desire in his eyes made my core tighten. Without breaking eye contact, I lowered my mouth to his length, tasting him, relishing the way he groaned deeply as I took him in. Slowly, I began to suck him, teasing with my tongue, wrapping my lips around him, and revelling every inch. He groaned again, his hands gripping the sheets as I worked him with my mouth, drawing out every sound, every reaction from him.
His hips bucked slightly as I took him deeper, the tension in his body mounting, and I could feel his restraint slipping. I kept up my pace, my hand wrapping around the base of his length as I continued sucking him, feeling the hardness of him, the need. His moans sent heat coursing through me, making me ache for him even more.
When I sensed he was close to the edge, I released him, slowly drawing back. His breath was ragged, and his red eyes locked onto mine wildly. Before he could pull me back to him, I rose to my knees and positioned myself above him, my hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms.
“Now it’s my turn,” I breathed shakily. Slowly, I lowered myself onto him, feeling him slide inside me, inch by inch. The stretch, the fullness—it was incredible, making every nerve in my body come alive. “Oh gods…” I moaned, the sensation of him deep inside me sending a shockwave of pleasure all over my body. His hands gripped my hips, firm yet possessive, guiding my movements, urging me to take more.
My body adjusted to the sensation, and I began to move, slowly at first, riding him with deliberate, rhythmic motions. It was blissfully infuriating and I could feel his body reacting beneath mine, his hips meeting each of my movements. His hands slid up my body, cupping my breasts, squeezing, as I rode him harder, faster, our moans filling the room.
“Naughty little kitten,” he groaned, his grip on my hips tightening as I moved faster, the feeling of him hitting deeper, harder, driving me to the brink of insanity. The pleasure was unbearable, building with every thrust, and I could feel myself nearing the edge, my body trembling as I rode him.
His red eyes never left mine, watching, burning, as I rode him toward that inevitable climax, both of us lost in the heat of it. And then, with one final, deep thrust, I shattered, my body convulsing around him as pleasure exploded through me, and I screamed his name, my nails digging into his chest.
He followed me over the edge moments later, his body tensing as he came inside me, groaning deeply as he filled me, his hands gripping me tightly, holding me close as we both rode out the aftershocks.
Breathless, I collapsed onto him, my heart pounding as I lay sprawled across his broad chest. His strong arms enveloped me, holding me close, cradling me as if I was something precious. He stroked my hair gently, his fingertips tracing soothing patterns down my back, the warmth of his body wrapping me in a cocoon of safety and contentment.
“You are mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
“How many times will you say that?” I chuckled, a teasing glint in my eyes.
“In every breath I take,” he replied, his tone unwavering.
“Then it’s only fair if you are mine too…” I said, locking my gaze with his.
He smirked, tightening his grip around me, his voice low and dripping with that familiar arrogance. “Yours?” He leaned closer, effortlessly shifting our positions so that I found myself beneath him. His breath warm against my ear. “I belong to no one sweetie, yet for you, I would lay bare my soul, surrender my heart, and offer every fragment of my being.”
Our gazes locked, and I could see the unyielding power in his eyes, as if he were etching my name into his very soul. Each glance held a promise—a vow that I was his and his alone. “But never forget,” he added, “You are mine first, last, and always.” He tilted my chin up with a finger, his lips brushing against mine. “And I don’t share.”
With that, he kissed my forehead, soft and reverent, before trailing his lips down to my temple. He pressed a kiss there too, lingering, as if staking his claim not just on my body, but on my soul. Slowly, methodically, he kissed his way down my face—across my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my cheeks—each kiss deliberate, searing his mark into me without saying a word.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as his mouth moved lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of my neck. He didn’t rush. He savored me, worshiped me, his lips tender but firm, marking invisible lines of ownership across my throat, my collarbone. Each kiss felt like a declaration—a wordless vow that bound me to him, heart and soul.
He leaned back slightly, his eyes dark with intensity, and I felt the weight of his gaze as much as I felt his touch. “You’re mine,” he whispered again, his lips hovering over my skin as he kissed his way down my arm, tracing each line, each curve with the same careful attention. “Every inch of you.”
His hands roamed my body, but not with lust—this was something else, something far deeper. He held me, his grip firm yet tender, as though he were memorizing every part of me, laying his claim in the softest, most intimate way possible. His lips followed the path his hands carved, trailing down my shoulders, my arms, my fingers. Each kiss felt like a seal, a binding tie between us.
He kissed my stomach, just above my navel, before slowly working his way back up. His hands slid around my back, pulling me into him, his lips finding the curve of my neck once more. And there he paused, pressing his mouth against my pulse, feeling my heartbeat beneath his lips.
I shivered, not from cold, but from the sheer power of his presence—his possessiveness, his desire to make me his in every way. He didn’t need to say it. I felt it. Every kiss, every touch spoke louder than words.
*****
I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep, but when I woke up, I was alone in his massive bed. The space felt even larger without him beside me. How did he manage to sleep here alone every night? Still, the bed suited him, a reflection of his power and dominance—just like everything else in this room.
A strange chill ran down my spine, and I looked up to find Sylus leaning against the bar table, dressed only in a robe, his eyes locked on me. There was a tray of food beside him.
I gave him a sleepy smile. “Good morning…” Honestly, I had no clue what time it was. My sense of time had been completely off since that night I got drunk. And now, it felt like I was drunk on him. The room’s curtains kept the sunlight at bay, making it impossible to tell the time.
“Good day, princess,” he said, walking over with the tray and setting it on the bed.
“What time is it?” I asked, though I didn’t really care. Even if it was Monday and I had work, it didn’t seem important anymore.
“Time doesn’t matter when you’re here,” he replied, sitting down next to me. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, suddenly aware of my nakedness.
“It’s not fair that you get to wear that, and I’m still—” I gestured to his robe.
“Would you rather I be naked?” His lips quirked into a grin, and I blushed as flashes of last night and this morning filled my mind. He kissed my forehead, his voice low. “I prefer seeing you naked.”
I clutched the blanket tighter, trying to hide my embarrassment. He laughed, his eyes softening as he studied me. “Please… don’t act like I haven’t seen you already,” he teased. “You’re perfect.”
I bit my lip, my heart skipping at his words.
He shifted the tray closer. “Eat,” he said gently. The tray held enough food for both of us: fresh fruit, croissants, scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes drizzled with syrup. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach rumble.
As he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, he picked up a fork and began to feed me. It was affectionate, almost domestic, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder about his mornings. Did he ever take the time to enjoy something as simple as breakfast? Or was he always up during the night, while mornings passed him by unnoticed?
“What’s your favorite breakfast?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, I don’t usually have breakfast… I’m usually asleep during the day.” He paused, his lips curving into a sly grin. “But I do have a favorite breakfast.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“You,” he said without missing a beat, his voice playful. “You’re my favorite breakfast.” He smirked as I turned bright red. “Though I’d love to have you for every meal.”
“Sylus!” I glared at him, but my cheeks burned, betraying me.
He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made my heart feel lighter. “What? It’s true.”
*****
After we finished our late breakfast, Sylus scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me to the bathroom. The air inside was warm and steamy, and to my surprise, the bathtub was already filled with hot water. I hadn’t even noticed him preparing it. He placed me gently into the water, the heat immediately soothing my sore muscles.
I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the warmth. Sylus slid in behind me, and the moment our skin touched, the water seemed to grow even hotter, sending a ripple of sensation through my body. His presence made the space between us feel electric yet comforting.
With tender hands, he gathered my hair, slowly wetting it before reaching for a bottle of shampoo. His fingers massaged my scalp, careful yet firm, the rhythm of his touch lulling me into a state of pure relaxation. His lips brushing teasingly against my skin, causing my breath to hitch.
I closed my eyes, letting the sensation of his fingers in my hair melt away the last bits of tension. The scent of the shampoo filled the air, a delicate mix of something sweet and earthy, perfectly in tune with him. He rinsed the shampoo from my hair with care, as if I were fragile.
Next, his hands wandered lower, reaching for the soap. I felt his fingers tracing down my arms, soaping my skin with long, smooth strokes. He washed my shoulders, my back, trailing his hands lower across my waist, always taking his time. Every motion was unhurried, as though we had all the time in the world.
His touch never felt invasive or rushed. It was as if he was memorizing every inch of me, silently claiming me in a way that words couldn’t capture. As his soapy hands moved across my chest, down my sides, I felt his warm and soft breath close to my neck.
I leaned back into him, relaxing against his chest, trusting him completely. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer as the water embraced us. I could feel his heartbeat against my back, and with his every heartbeat, I was drowning closer to him. His lips pressed softly against the nape of my neck and lingered there.
He held me tighter, his hands resting across my stomach, fingers splayed like he was trying to hold onto more than just my body. “You know,” he murmured low against my ear, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, with you.”
“I don’t need the world,” he continued, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw with featherlight touches that sent every cell in my body jolted awake. “All I need is to wake up, knowing you're mine.” His words filled me, like sunlight pouring into the darkest corners of my soul, casting warmth where there had been none.
He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping my chin, turning my face toward him. His eyes locked onto mine, filled with a depth I hadn’t seen before, something powerfully unspoken. And in those eyes, I see the reflection of my deepest desires. “Everything in me belongs to you," he whispered, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "Everything I am, everything I will be—it's yours."
His gaze held mine, unwavering, like a silent vow. When his lips brushed softly against my temple, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of that touch seep into the deepest corners of my soul, filling the hidden places that had long yearned for him.
His tenderness reached places no one else had ever touched, as if his very presence was stitching together every fractured piece of me. In that moment, I wasn’t just with him—I was his, as much as he was mine. He anchored me, not with chains, but with a love so quiet, so absolute, that even forever seemed too fleeting to hold us.