She gasps, her hand abandoning his to its exploration, rising to cradle his head. He might as well brand her with his initials, she thinks.

Heat is rising in her skin again, and she arches her back a bit more, still dancing slowly. Between the heat of his mouth and the hardness of his cock, her awareness is stretched taut as piano wire.

He already owns her, she thinks. Without question. Without hesitation. Without even a second thought. She belongs to him.