"How did you—"
I didn't get to finish.
He crossed the distance between us in seconds. His hands coming up to my neck, not rough but firm, anchoring, before his lips crashed into mine.
Stealing all the breath from my lungs.
My hands flew to his wrists instinctively, feeling the steady, frantic pulse beneath my fingers as he deepened the kiss, as if he had been holding himself back for too long. There was urgency in it. Heat. Something unspoken that burned through every ounce of restraint I had left.
And I didn't stop him. I couldn't.
My head tipped back slightly, my body yielding before I could even think to resist.
"Elena," he murmured against my lips, his voice rougher than I had ever heard it.
But before I could respond, he pressed forward until my hips met the edge of the sink. The cool marble pressing against me, grounding and jarring all at once.
"I went mad searching for you," he breathed, his forehead brushing mine for a brief second, thumbs tracing circles around my jaw like he needed to be certain that I was real. "I thought you had fled."
A soft gasp slipped out of me when he twisted me, my hands bracing against the sink as I caught our reflection in the mirror.
His gaze met mine through the glass. Dark, intent, filled with something far deeper than desire alone.
"But I must have you first," he murmured, his voice low against my ear.
His fingers slid through my hair, drawing it over one shoulder with careful intent, exposing the line of my neck. Vulnerable. "You stand before me adorned like this," he continued, slower now, measured, "as though you were a treasure set beyond my reach...yet placed in my hands all the same."
His lips found my skin, warm and deliberate, lingering rather than claiming.
My breath faltered.
His hand followed, one tracing the curve of my waist while the other drifted to my front, sneaking into the front of my dress to cup my breast like he was reminding himself that I was real. That I was here.
His to touch.
I tipped my head back instinctively, my grip tightening on the edge of the sink as a shiver ran through me, grounding my hips against his growing erection.
"Marcus—" I breathed, the sound barely steady.
"Let me have you first, Elena," he murmured, his voice low and controlled, but beneath the surface, there was a fierce, desperate hunger clawing to break free.
His fingers moved with urgent precision at the buttons of his trousers, while the other hand crushed my breast with rough insistence. His lips burned a scorching path along the hollow of my neck, each touch searing.
Then his eyes drifted to mine in the mirror, dark and wild. Raw with need and something dangerously close to pain.
"Let me be certain," he breathed, quieter now, his voice rough and ragged as he lifted my dress, "that you are truly here. That you have not slipped from my grasp again."
My breath faltered, ragged and shallow, as I fought to steady myself, holding onto something solid in his storm. "Why does it matter to you if I left?" I whispered, softer than I meant to be. "You don't need me anymore, Marcus."
His hand froze over my bare hips, the urgency of his touch suddenly vanishing like a flame snuffed out.
For a fleeting moment, the raw hunger gave way to something heavier. A dark weight pressing down between us.
"Because," he said, his voice dropping low and steady, every word a quiet reckoning, "I do not abandon what I claim."
His dark gaze locked onto mine in the mirror, relentless, unyielding. "And I would not have you vanish from me without a fight."
With a sharp, trembling gasp, he pushed himself fully inside me, the heat of him filling every inch.
I gasped back, breath catching, overwhelmed at the exquisite feel of him stretching my walls. Fuck, I've missed this. How could I ever forgotten the burn, the fire of him deep inside me.
His hand slid between my legs, his fingers tender yet demanding as he began to move. Slow, deliberate strokes that pulled a shiver from my core.
"You are not meant for another, Elena," he murmured. "And I will not see you placed in any hands but mine."
Each thrust sent waves crashing through me, his fingers tracing a rhythm that matched with rising urgency. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, surrendering to the flood of sensation, my body aching for more of this fierce connection that only he could give.
His other hand drifted from my breast, skimming over my ribs before pressing hard against my back, pinning me to him. The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, held me captive.
I pressed my lips on the crook of his neck, before he crashed his lips back down on mine in a silent, desperate kiss, craving every part of him as he moved. Faster, more frantic, driven by a hunger that matched my own.
The pace shattered all our restraint.
His thrusts grew urgent, wild and desperate. Each one a silent plea for this moment to stretch into eternity.
My nails dug deep into the cold marble of the sink, skin numb to everything but the chill beneath me. Breath ragged, mingling with his low, guttural groans that echoed between us. The world shrinking to the slick, fiery heat between our bodies, the relentless pounding of our hearts in unison.
His frantic rhythm crashed over us, relentless and consuming. My body clenched tightly around him, spiraling out of control as raw, unfiltered pleasure devoured me whole.
"Marcus..." I gasped, voice breaking, words lost in the tidal wave of sensation crashing through me.
It was like something primal had taken hold of him. The way he held my hips, driving deeper, harder, as my slickness dripped down my trembling thighs. I had to grip the sink harder, my eyes locking on our reflection, watching with awe as the fierce hunger in his gaze matched the wild need clawing through my veins.
He lost himself in me utterly, and with a shuddering groan that tore from deep within, he came inside me. Raw, fierce and consuming.
Marcus didn't give me much time to gather myself.
He drew back only to turn me in his arms, his grip firm as he pulled me against him again, his lips finding mine with a quiet urgency that hadn't quite faded. There was something different in it now, like he was grounding himself in the feel of me.
"How has it," he murmured against my lips, his voice low, almost disbelieving, "that even now, I am not wholly convinced you are real?"
I pulled away as reality crashed in all at once.
The tiled walls. The unlocked door. The risk.
I stepped back, my breath uneven as I tried to steady myself, my hands moving instinctively to smooth my skirt, to fix what little I could.
"We can't do this here," I said under my breath, turning toward the mirror. I adjust my hair, my makeup, then rinsing my hands. "Someone could walk in at any moment."
Behind me, I could feel his gaze, steady and unyielding.
"If you fear that hound will come storming through those doors," he said, his voice still rough from what had happened between us, "set your mind at ease."
I stilled, my fingers hovering over the sink as I met his eyes through the mirror.
"I have seen to it," he added, buttoning back his trousers.
Before I could ask what he meant, a sharp sound cut through the air.
I flinched at the sound of the alarm. It wasn't deafening, but it was enough. A piercing, insistent chime that echoed beyond the walls, followed by the sudden rise of voices outside. Confused, startled, shifting.
Marcus grinned before grabbing my hand, firm and unyielding.
"Now," he said.
There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt.
Only command.
My heart lurched as he pulled me toward the door. For a split second, instinct screamed at me to resist. To question, to think if this was wise...
But I didn't.
I simply followed.