My Luna, my daughter, my sacrifice

Utterly hopeless

His mouth devoured mine like he couldn’t get enough, like kissing me wasn’t close enough — like he wanted to consume me.

My back slammed harder against the wall as he pressed into me, hips grinding between my thighs with a raw, desperate need that made my head spin. Every roll of his body against mine sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me, pooling low and dark and dangerous.

I moaned into his mouth, my hands scrambling to find purchase — his shoulders, his hair, the front of his shirt that I fisted in both hands because if I let go, I’d fall apart right here.

His lips tore away from mine only long enough to trail down my neck, biting and sucking marks into my skin like he wanted to brand me. I cried out when his teeth grazed that spot just beneath my ear, my body arching off the wall and into him.

“f**k,” he growled, voice wrecked and feral. His hands slid down, gripping my thighs and lifting me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, locking us together so tight I could feel everything.

His length pressed against me, thick and hard even through layers of clothes, and the friction made my eyes roll back in my head.

“You feel this?” he rasped, grinding against me harder. “This is what you do to me. You walk in here looking like that—dancing like that—and you expect me to just watch?”

I couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe. I could only gasp and cling to him as he rocked against me, every movement rough and precise, building that coil inside me tighter and tighter until I thought I might shatter.

His hand slid up my side, dragging my dress higher until the cool air hit my bare skin. His fingers found the thin scrap of lace between my thighs, and he cursed against my throat when he felt how wet I was.

“You’re f*****g soaked,” he growled, his voice almost inhuman now, dark and hungry. “All for me.”

His thumb pressed against me through the fabric, and my hips bucked, chasing that pressure like I had no control left. I was already gone — burning alive in his hands, and begging for more without saying a word.

“Say it again,” he demanded, biting at my collarbone. “Say you’re mine.”

“Yours,” I gasped, shameless now. “Yours.”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed back onto mine, even rougher this time, his teeth dragging against my bottom lip hard enough to sting. His hands grabbed my hips, grinding me down against the hard line of his c**k until I was panting and writhing, desperate for more friction, more anything.

“You’re going to come for me,” he snarled against my mouth. “Right here. Right now.”

His hand slipped beneath my panties, and when his fingers found me, hot and slick and throbbing, I cried out so loud it echoed off the walls. He didn’t stop — didn’t let up — circling and stroking me just right until I was trembling, my body tensing tight like a wire about to snap.

“Come, little girl,” he growled, biting my neck as his fingers worked me faster. “Let me feel you fall apart for me.”

And I did.

My orgasm ripped through me, blinding and violent, my whole body shaking as I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me upright. My cry was muffled against his mouth as he swallowed every sound, kissing me through it like he wanted to taste every last drop of my pleasure.

Even as I sagged against him, boneless and breathless, he didn’t let go. His hands gripped me tighter, his chest heaving against mine.

“You’re mine now,” he rasped, voice dark and final. “No one else. No one ever.”

I didn’t argue.

Couldn’t.

Because in that moment — still trembling in his arms, my skin marked by his teeth and my body still pulsing with the aftershocks — I was his.

Completely.

Utterly.

Hopelessly.

His lips never left my skin, moving from my mouth to my jaw, down the column of my throat, where he sucked hard enough to make me gasp. My head tipped back against the wall, my chest heaving as I fought to catch my breath — but he didn’t give me a chance.

His hands roamed everywhere. Over my hips, up my sides, fingers digging in like he wanted to memorize every inch, brand me as his with every touch.

“You feel that?” he whispered against my neck, voice a low, dangerous growl. “Your body knows you’re mine. It’s begging for me.”

His words sent a fresh rush of heat through me, making my thighs squeeze tighter around his waist. I could feel how hard he was against me — solid, thick, straining — and the sheer pressure of it made my whole body clench with need.

I whimpered, breathless, my nails clawing at his shoulders. “Please—”

That snapped something inside him.

With a deep, guttural sound, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them high above my head, trapping me completely against the wall. His body pressed in tighter, leaving no space between us, and when he ground against me again, slow and rough, I couldn’t stop the needy little moan that spilled from my lips.

His mouth crashed back onto mine, kissing me like he wanted to steal the air from my lungs. There was nothing soft in it — it was messy, wild, full of teeth and tongue and raw hunger.

I kissed him back just as desperately, my body arching into him, chasing every bit of friction like I was starving for it. And maybe I was. Maybe I’d never wanted anything like I wanted this.

His free hand slipped lower, skimming over the bare skin of my thigh, then higher, dragging my dress up again as he rocked against me harder, rougher.

“You knew what you were doing,” he hissed against my mouth. “Dressed like that. Dancing like that. Tempting me until I couldn’t think straight.”

I could barely form words, but I managed to pant out, “I wanted you to look.”

His eyes flashed — gold, dark and dangerous. “I did more than look,” he growled. “And now I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

His hips rolled against me again, slow but deep, making my head spin and my breath stutter. The friction was almost too much — almost not enough — and the way he watched my every reaction made the heat between us flare even hotter.

I was trembling, caught between wanting more and not knowing how much more I could take.

His lips found my ear, his breath hot as he whispered, “You’re mine. Say it again.”

“Yours,” I gasped, dizzy from the pressure building inside me all over again. “Yours.”

His teeth scraped my skin, and I felt him shudder against me.

He let go of my wrists just long enough to grab my face in both hands, forcing me to look at him. His gaze burned into mine, raw and possessive and almost feral.

“No one else gets to touch you,” he rasped. “No one else gets to hear you moan like that. Only me.”

Before I could respond, he was kissing me again, deeper this time, like he was staking his claim right there against the wall.

My legs shook, my body on the verge of falling apart all over again, and I didn’t care that we were still in some dark hallway of a bar, didn’t care about anything except the feel of him — the taste of him — the way he made me feel like I was burning alive.

And God, I wanted to burn.