Emily

 I made a deal with the devil himself...

 There was a moment right as I reached the door at the address on Nico's card where I thought about running.

 Spinning on my heel, sprinting down the stairs and out to the street, melting into the city until the sky fades to black and my legs give out. I pictured myself catching a bus to anywhere, getting off without a plan, changing my name, erasing every trace. Disappearing.

 But the image that followed-one I couldn't shake and that made my stomach twist-was Nico chasing me.

 Not running. Just walking, calm and unhurried, already knowing where I'll end up.

 So instead, I opened the door and went up.

 The ground floor was occupied by a Michelin-starred French restaurant, the kind where you need a connection just to get a reservation. The second floor was a tech startup...something to do with "AI-streamlined efficiency congruence", whatever that means.

 But the third floor-the one I'm now on-is something else entirely. And it feels...old, like a time capsule to an earlier New York, especially contrasted against the elegant restaurant and the glass-and-neon tech bro haven below.

 The door is solid wood, with a framed sign affixed to it that announces in very 80's font Lickity Splits: Hottest Girls in the Big Apple!

 I stare at it for a full thirty seconds.

 A fucking strip club?

 For a moment, I think this must be a joke.

 Then I remember the look in Nico's eyes last night. The quiet commanding tone in his voice.

 He wasn't joking.

 I place a trembling palm on the door, my whole body coiled so tight I feel it might snap in half, and push it open.

 The inside is all dark wood floors, vintage leather furniture, and lots of old bookshelves filled with...well...old books.

 No neon. No strobes. No poles. No lap dances, thank God.

 But there is him.

 Nico.

 He's sitting behind the desk at the far end of the large room, flanked by those high bookshelves on one side and a vintage bar cart on the other. The shades are drawn, giving the space a low, sultry, somewhat smokey-gauzy feel. Just a few dim, golden lights are on.

 A cigarette dangles from his perfect lips, smoke curling lazily into the air. He doesn't say anything when I enter. Doesn't greet me. Just watches me with the same expression he had that night he caught me on the rooftop-cold, indecipherable, something I can't quite place.

 Detachment?

 I step inside, and the door clicks softly shut behind me.

 The air is warm. I'm already sweating beneath my hoodie.

 "You're late," he finally says.

 I glance at the wall clock. Two minutes past eight.

 "Sorry," I whisper. "The subway⁠-"

 "I wasn't asking for an excuse."

 Nico leans back in his chair, the leather creaking underneath him. "Take off your sweatshirt."

 I hesitate.

 His brows lift slightly, and something in my stomach plummets. I shrug off the hoodie, turning to drop it onto a chair next to the door. I'm left standing in just my long-sleeve t-shirt and leggings. I'm not cold, but I shiver anyway.

 "Hmm," he murmurs, his gaze running over me. "Ballet Barbie reporting for duty. Though I did say to look pretty."

 I flush. My fists clench. I'm not sure if it's out of anger or shame.

 "But you didn't come here to look pretty, Naomi. You came here because you belong to me now. Isn't that right."

 I... I don't know how to answer that.

 He doesn't wait for me to try. He stands, slowly walks around the desk, and leans back against it.

 Silence fills the room, building to an uncomfortable, noiseless crescendo.

 "So..." I trail off, looking at the floor as my fingers pick at my cuticles. "What did you want me here for?"

 I won't lie. I debated this heavily all night, and all morning before I came here. I wondered if the address was a location where he was going to straight-up torture or murder me. I almost expected to walk in and see chains and hot irons, or a firing squad of mafia hitmen.

 "I think I was very clear last night when I said you were mine now," Nico growls.

 I tremble.

 That's another thought I had: wondering if there was something equally dark but in a totally different part of the forest waiting for me here today.

 "You're mine now."

 The tone of his voice and the dark black hunger in his eyes had made it pretty clear what that might mean, even to someone like me.

 "But in case I'm mistaken," he purrs, "and I was not as clear as I could have been, let's start with something simple." He takes a final drag of his cigarette and turns to stub it out in a crystal ashtray on the desk before turning back to me. His lips don't move, but a hint of amusement sparks in his cold gaze.

 "Strip."

 My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

 I blink. "W-what?"

 "I'm quite sure you heard me."

 He can't be fucking serious.

 "Nico-"

 "You're wasting my time. And I know you're not stupid, which means you're doing so purposefully. It's starting to piss me off."

 He rolls his neck, exhaling slowly.

 "Have you ever seen someone you love almost blown to pieces in front of you?"

 I flinch, as if struck.

 "Nico, I'm so sorry⁠-"

 "You don't have to be sorry. You didn't order a car bomb delivered to my front door. Unfortunately, the man who did is untouchable. Equally as unfortunately, you are the opposite. Which is why you're mine now, to do with as I please. And if that is having you strip in front of me while I watch..." He lifts a shoulder. "I would start making fucking peace with that," he growls. "Is that clear."

 I swallow, nodding.

 "Then stop wasting my fucking time. Strip."

 Hands trembling, I reach down and grip the hem of my t-shirt. My chest tightens as I pull it over my head and toss it aside. Then I slip my fingers into the waistband of my leggings. I slide them down slowly, stepping out of them hesitantly, until I'm standing in my bra and underwear, breathing shallowly.

 Cold silence hangs in the room for a moment.

 "That's not stripping," Nico says calmly.

 My cheeks flame, but I continue.

 Every motion feels like a betrayal. Not of myself, but my idea of myself. I'm not shy about being naked. I change in front of other dancers every day, even in front of male dancers backstage during quick costume changes.

 But this is different.

 This is intimate.

 This is my power being taken.

 And the way he watches me makes it worse.

 He doesn't leer. Doesn't ogle. Just...inspects me, like I'm a specimen under glass. Cataloging what belongs to him.

 I stand there trying not to shake, my hands making a feeble attempt to cover my breasts and sex.

 Nico pushes away from the desk and begins to circle me slowly. I flinch a little when he takes my wrist, pulling my hands away from my body.

 "Hmm," he murmurs almost to himself, gaze dropping to my pussy. "Next time, I want you shaved."

 My cheeks flame with heat. I keep it trimmed down there. I mean, with the light-colored tights, it's just better. But I don't shave completely either.

 I swallow hard. "Why?" I mumble.

 "Because that's what I prefer," he growls. "More important, because I said so."

 He walks around behind me. I flinch when I feel his warm breath on my neck.

 "Desk," he murmurs. "Bend over it."

 My body locks up.

 "Now."

 I still don't move.

 He sighs, annoyed. "Need I remind you what happens if you say no? What I have?"

 I die a little inside as the mere mention of that disgusting tape of my assault, which he still thinks is a fucking porno.

 I hate that he has something over me.

 "I-no," I stammer.

 "Then go to that fucking desk and bend the fuck over it."

 Shame floods my body as I quietly walk over to his desk. I feel like I'm watching from outside my body as I stop in front of the heavy wooden desk.

 "That's part one. Now two..."

 I close my eyes, my heart thudding an irregular staccato against my ribs.

 "I-no," I choke.

 Nico sighs darkly right behind me. I can feel his heat against my bare back; smell his heady scent: leather, tobacco, masculine and clean.

 "Why the fuck not," he says darkly.

 "Because it's humiliating," I blurt.

 I gasp sharply when I feel his lips brush against my ear.

 "Good."

 I shudder.

 Finally, I do as he commands and bend over the desk, my bare breasts and my cheek pressing to the polished wood when I turn my head to the side.

 "Arms up. Grab the far edge of it."

 My pulse hammers in my veins. My body trembles and shakes with a swirling mix of shame, fear, excitement, and horror at feeling that excitement.

 My palms land on the desk, the cool wood biting into my skin. My spine tenses. My legs tremble.

 I can't believe I'm doing this.

 Who the hell am I right now?

 Behind me, I hear the quiet, unhurried tread of Nico's shoes against the floor. I can feel his heat at my back again, feel his gaze drifting over my skin like smoke.

 "Spread your legs," he murmurs.

 I don't move. I can't.

 His hand comes down lightly on my lower back-not hard, not forceful.

 But firm.

 Commanding.

 So I obey.

 My whole body hums with shame and something dark I can't name, and my cheeks burn as I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with nudity. It feels deeper, as if someone is peeling me open, layer by layer, displaying all the things I never meant to reveal.

 Suddenly, his hand slides between my legs and cups my pussy firmly from behind.

 I gasp, choking as my eyes snap wide, every muscle in my body clenching.

 My skin is on fire. My heart is jackrabbiting. I brace for panic-expect it to rise up screaming after everything that happened to me not that long ago.

 Strangely, it doesn't.

 His fingers slide over my pussy lips, exploratory and possessive. My knees nearly buckle as I bite down hard on my bottom lip.

 "We need to be clear about something," he says, his voice low and dangerous near my ear. "And we might as well get it out of the way now."

 His hand moves slowly and deliberately, fingers stroking up and down. I shiver, shame flooding my face as something else floods elsewhere at the tingling, dangerous, exciting feeling his touch on my most intimate place brings out.

 "When I say you're mine, I mean all of you. Every thought you have? Mine. Every inch of this body? Mine. This pussy?"

 His fingertip parts my lips, sliding down to roll over my mortifyingly swollen clit.

 "Mine. Do you understand?"

 I don't answer.

 Because, again, I can't.

 I hate that he has rhis much power over me.

 And I'm mad at myself for getting myself involved with someone like him. 

 Dangerous and also annoyingly good looking. 

 It's infuriating how attractive he is.

 To be continued....

Emily

 I'm still trying to make sense of the fact that I'm not recoiling.

 I'm responding.

 My hips shift involuntarily. My breath quickens. Thick, hot, danger coils inside me.

 And then suddenly, his finger plunges deep inside me, until his knuckles are pressed against my slick lips.

 A soft, broken sound escapes my throat.

 Oh God.

 It's a moan.

 I just. Fucking. Moaned.

 Nico lets out a low, quiet, cold laugh.

 "I'd ask again," he chuckles, "but I think we have our answer."

 My face crumples a little when he slides his finger out and then rams it back in; deep, hard, conquering. My eyelids droop and my nipples tighten against the glossy wood as his thick digit begins to stroke in and out of me. He curls it slightly against my front wall, stroking my g-spot as my legs tremble and shake.

 "Are you fucking anyone right now, Emily?" Nico purrs.

 My breath hitches. I don't respond.

 The sharp crack of his palm against my ass sends me jolting forward with a yelp.

 "Answer me."

 "N-no," I whimper.

 Not now. Not ever.

 "Good."

 His voice is raw now, hungry in a way that scares me. How much my body wants to hear it again scares me even more.

 Another finger joins the first, and I brace myself against the desk, biting down on my lip hard. The pressure, the stretch, the sheer wrongness of this situation-it should all horrify me. And maybe it does. But underneath that?

 There's heat.

 Shameful, desperate heat, building with every motion of his hand.

 My thoughts are jumbled. Part of me screams that I should recoil from his touch, especially since I didn't ask for it. After what happened at that photoshoot, I know this should be making me shut down.

 Instead, it feels like a balm smoothed over the experience.

 "You're so fucking tight," he growls. "Like you were made to take what I give you. I love that you feel you should hate it... But that's a tough sell when your greedy little pussy keeps sucking my fingers back inside like you want more."

 My mouth drops open, but no words come out. Just panting, broken sounds. I grip the desk harder.

 "Is that what you want, Emily?" he taunts. "More?"

 I whimper.

 There's no room for denial now. No space for thought. My body is trembling, slick with sweat and shame and something that I don't have the words for.

 Nico adds a third finger, and my world begins to blur at the edge. My eyes roll back like I'm possessed. My back arches, toes scraping against the floor and hips pushing back on their own accord.

 It's almost too much.

 But, God help me, I want it.

 "Look at you, taking these like you were made for them," he growls, ramming all three of his fingers into my wet, eager pussy. "Don't worry, Emily. I'll get this little hole nice and stretched so it can take my fat cock next time. You dancers are all about stretching, aren't you."

 My whole body tightens. The breath leaves my body.

 "Now: you're going to come on my fingers, and then you're going to thank me."

 It hits me like a bomb.

 A storm surge that breaks inside me with a wave of pulsing, helpless release.

 And suddenly, I cry out as I shatter.

 The orgasm explodes through me, wrenching my body as I twist and writhe. Nico's fingers plunge in and out of me, finger-fucking me all through the release until I'm shaking and gasping for air as my hipbones press tight to the edge of the desk.

 Nico's hand comes to a stop. My world is spinning, my vision still blurry as my lungs scream for air.

 "Well?"

 I blink, not quite able to form words.

 "Say thank you, ballerina," he growls quietly. "Thank me for letting you come."

 Hunger, vicious and raw curls inside me.

 "Th-thank you," I choke.

 Slowly, he pulls out his fingers. My body collapses, wrecked and shaking, on the desk. I can't breathe.

 "You may get dressed now," he says simply.

 I stand on shaky legs and reach for my clothes with fumbling hands. I still feel like I'm outside myself, watching someone else move. Not me, but someone who just let this happen, who didn't stop it, who moaned when he touched her.

 I pull my clothes back on, fingers trembling.

 He just watches me.

 "We're done for today," he says as he lights another cigarette.

 "But when I say you belong to me now..." He exhales smoke. "I hope you understand what that means."

 I say nothing. I still can't.

 "Next time," he adds coolly, "be shaved bare. And if you don't own better lingerie, don't bother wearing any at all."

 I nod, my face flaming.

 I leave, and the door clicks shut behind me.

 I'm shaking so hard, I can barely stand.

Naomi

 The moment i decided to follow Nicolas without his knowledge I prepared myself to see the worst.

 I wait for him to disappear before i continue following him.

 I slam against a wall.

 Dead end.

 I whirl around to run in the other direction⁠-

 And scream when a shadow lunges from the dark.

 A body slams into me, hard, ripping off my mask and whipping me around, slamming me face-first into the wall, pressing hard against my back.

 A hand wraps around my throat, sending adrenaline exploding like napalm through my body.

 "What the fuck are you doing here?" a voice growls.

 My breath stutters.

 I freeze.

 It's Nicolasa.

 His hand is still on my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Like he doesn't trust me not to disappear, or trust himself to let me go.

 "What the fuck are you doing here," he growls again, his voice even more edged and deeper.

 "I-" My voice breaks. "I saw⁠-"

 "Everything?" he finishes for me.

 I nod.

 His hard body clenches with rage behind me.

 With hunger.

 And then-I feel it.

 The sharp press of him, thick and growing, hardening against the curve of my ass through his slacks.

 My breath stutters, and my traitor body sparks to life.

 Knowing him. Needing him.

 Being so fucking familiar with him that it craves him as he pulls nearer.

 Unraveling me from the inside out.

 Except just as that feeling ignites inside of me, something darker, something angry, roars up to snuff it out with a black cloud.

 "Don't you fucking touch me."

 The words hiss through my clenched teeth as I tense against him. I shove back, as if trying to dislodge his weight as it pins me to the wall. But he doesn't move or even budge one inch. His hand stays tight on my throat, the other slamming into the wall beside my head.

 "I said," I choke, writhing under his grip. "Do not put your hands on me!"

 There's a pause. A throbbing, vibrating silence.

 "Excuse me⁠-"

 "You got dressed up tonight," I snap, still facing the wall with his hand around my throat and the achingly familiar heat of his body pressing into me. "You smelled like cologne."

 "I told you," he snarls. "I had a work thing⁠-"

 "Or was it a Melissa thing?" I blurt furiously. "Or maybe some other side girl?!"

 Nico goes still. But then, the short, dark laugh that rips out of him almost makes me scream in rage.

 "You think I got dressed up to go fuck someone else?"

 I push back against him, shoving off the wall, but his hand slams against the stone beside my head, caging me in.

 "I fucking saw your phone," I snap. "Don't act like I'm making shit⁠-"

 "This," he snarls, and I flinch as his muscles coil tightly and furiously against me. "This is what I was talking to Melissa about," he snaps angrily, yanking his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and shoving it in my face.

 The screen glows brightly in the dim, low light of the stone hallway he's got me pinned to the wall of. But as my eyes adjust to the glow, the image I'm looking at clears.

 Worn, ancient-looking pale satin pointe shoes encased in a velvet-lined display box, with a title above it almost like an eBay listing that reads:

 Pierina legnanie

 My brain stutters.

 Pierina Legnanie was an Italian ballerina who is still thought of as one of the greatest of all time. She played the dual Odette-Odile role in the infamous Imperial Ballet production of the newly revised Swan Lake in 1895, choreographed by two of the greatest choreographers ever, Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov.

 "I-what?" I stammer.

 "Melissa is a retired dance teacher, and now works as a broker for rare ballet antiquities," he growls. "She taught Bianca when she was five. She's almost eighty, for what that's worth."

 My pulse roars in my ears. I don't say anything. It's like I can't say anything.

 "Since you were snooping," Nico rasps in my ear. "You probably already know that I went to see her. That she thinks I'm the sweetest. That she loves the gift..."

 I shiver as his snarled breath traces like a blade over my jugular.

 "The ballet slippers," he growls tightly. "That I bought for you, by the way."

 I go still. Time seems to stutter for a moment.

 "Surprise," he mutters dryly.

 Holy...

 WHAT.

 His face moves closer to mine, his voice a lethal whisper now.

 "You think I could even look at another woman, when you exist?"

 My breath catches again.

 My heart flips.

 Because I want to scream. I want to apologize. I want to throw myself into his arms.

 But then his tone changes.

 Darkens.

 Flares into something else entirely.

 He presses harder into me, pinning my hips to the wall, his breath hot and sharp in my ear.

 "I told you this part of my life wasn't for you," he growls, his voice like a razor dragged across velvet. He presses harder on my back and pins me to the wall with his firm body. "You're too good for this," he rasps.

 I gasp when his hand pushes up under the hem of my stolen dress.

 "I-I'm not," I whimper in a broken whisper.

 "No," he breathes, voice guttural. "Not anymore, you're not."

 His fingers hook into the lace of my underwear and tears it down to my knees. I moan when he shoves my thighs apart, stretching my panties tight around them as he forces his hand between my legs.

 "Bad fucking girl."

 I'm already embarrassingly wet-confusingly so, given what I've just seen and experienced. But it's like my brain has short-circuited. Like I've become as broken, fucked up, and deranged as whatever it is I just witnessed.

 Try as I might, I cannot make myself be scared, or horrified, or numb.

 My palms flatten against the cool stone wall, my back arching before I can stop myself.

 Nico unzips roughly. The sound makes me whimper.

 Then, without any warning, he grips my hips and rams every fat, swollen inch of his huge cock into me from behind.

 Hard.

 I cry out, my forehead hitting the wall, and he stills, buried to the hilt.

 "Is this what you wanted?" he snarls. "To see what I am? To be part of it?"

 My answer is a moan.

 A sob.

 A scream that only he hears.

 He pounds into me, ruthless, raw, consuming. My legs tremble. My fingers scrape across the stone, seeking some purchase.

 "Fuck, baby. Your cunt feels even tighter after you've run from me. Stretch for me, baby. Let that pussy squeeze and strangle me like a good little cock slut."

 My jaw goes slack, my head swimming as my vision blurs. I pant against the wall, clinging to the rough stone as Nico fucks me like an animal-hard, rough, unmerciful. He reaches up and rips my dress half off, tearing the straps and letting them fall down. My nipples tighten, and I cry out as they press to the hard stone. His hands maul me, pinching and rolling my nipples as his cock rams into me over and over, sending me into an abyss as everything starts to tighten up.

 "Listen to that-so wet for me, so greedy. You're going to come all over my cock already, aren't you, baby?" I shudder, whimpering eagerly as he bites my earlobe hard. "You're gonna make a mess of my big fucking dick, aren't you?"

 He's not wrong.

 I am going to come already.

 It's all of it: the sheer madness of everything I've witnessed, the roughness in his touch and thrusts, the vicious way he's claiming me against the wall, pounding into me hard and fast in a way that ignites unhinged wildness in me.

 With a cry, my back arches sharply, my legs spasming and my body wrenching in pleasure. Nico holds me tight, pinning me hard to the wall, never slowing his powerful, deep thrusts...and I feel myself shatter around him.

 Moans fill my ears-his and mine together-as the orgasm explodes through me.

 Nico slows briefly as I suck in breaths of air. Then he slides his thick cock out of me, leaving me feeling empty.

 "I don't think bad little girls who break the rules get off that easily," he murmurs darkly. "So to speak."

 His hands grip my ass, fingers digging into the flesh. He starts to spread my cheeks, and when I feel the slick, swollen head of his cock drag up from my pussy, my eyes fly open.

 "Nico-!" I gasp.

 "You're going to take me here now. Just like this. Up against the fucking wall like the dirty little cock tease that you are."

 My eyes bulge, my mouth going slack. I hear him spit-fucking spit-and then feel it drip down my ass, where he smears it against my back hole with his dick.

 It should be fucking degrading, using his spit as lube to take my ass for the first time. It should feel demeaning and cheap.

 Maybe it does.

 So why are my legs shaking in anticipation? Why is my body quivering, nipples tight against the wall, with a fresh wave of slickness coating my thighs?

 "You're going to take my cock in your ass like a good girl, Naomi."

 My spine snaps rigid as I feel him rub his slick cock up and down, sliding the head over the impossibly tight ring of my ass.

 It's never going to fit.

 He's too big.

 I've never done this before.

 I've never even wanted to before. But right now, up against the wall, waiting for him to take this last part of me, I'm riding a high-and the sheer adrenaline and anticipation of something so raw and wrong and dirty has me aching for it.

 He pushes. The pressure builds against my tight hole, and it takes me a second to realize that the whining sound in my ears is me.

 Craving it.

 Desperate for it.

 Needing it in a brutal, dark way I can't explain.

 "Fuck me..." I choke as Nico's thick cock eases against my little hole.

 He groans behind me and spits on my ass again. I shiver, whimpering as I feel his fat cock spread the slickness over my asshole and then start to press in again.

 "Fuck you how," he snarls.

 "Rough," I blubber, nails dragging down the wall.

 "Where."

 Oh, God.

 "My ass..." I whisper, my breath catching as he starts to push in, adding more pressure. "Fuck me hard in the ass..."

 Suddenly, his head pops past my ring.

 I cry out, my jaw clenching, my face caving as pain and pleasure surge brutally through me.

 He feels fucking huge, like he's stretching me past my limits, like he's going to split me in half.

 "Nico-"

 "That's it, baby," he groans, leaning down and biting my shoulder sharply, making me gasp. "Just relax, and take my cock in your ass like a good girl."

 He slides in a little more, and my eyes roll back as red and black mist clouds my reality.

 It's so good.

 It hurts.

 I want more.

 Nico pushes his fat cock deeper.

 It's pain, and heat, and a fullness I've never even imagined.

 I can't breathe from the sheer force of him claiming every inch of me.

 He thrusts deeper, and I scream, muffled by his hand. Deeper, deeper deeper...his cock feels endless as he crams every inch up my ass until suddenly, my eyes fly wide and my mouth drops open as I feel his heavy balls against my pussy.

 Holy. Fuck.

 It burns. It aches. It breaks something in me.

 But it's not pain that brings me close to tears. It's the way he groans-low, triumphant, like he's finally home.

 His mouth brushes my ear. "You feel that?" he growls. "That's me taking the last of you."

 My knees shake. My nails scrape the wall. He slowly drags his thick cock out of me, my ass clenching tight around him. Then, with just the head inside, he starts to work it right back in, wrenching a low, guttural moan from my throat.

 Suddenly, the pain begins to melt just enough to make room for something else, dark and obscene and electric.

 Pleasure.

 My hips push back a little.

 His hand slides from my mouth to my throat.

 "You're taking my cock in your ass like such a good girl, Naomi," he groans. "You're going to feel me here for days, ballerina. You're going to remember how fucking mine you are with every step. This slutty little fuck-hole's been waiting for me to take it, hasn't it?"

 I'm drowning in a mix of pleasure and pain that's taking me places I've never been before.

 I can't speak, can barely breathe.

 Most of all, I just want more.

 Nico is happy to oblige. He fucks me like he means it. I moan his name and cry out for more. He grips my hips, pounding harder, faster, deeper, until my body shakes and wrenches.

 I'm going to come.

 I'm going to come with his cock in my ass.

 "Look at you, baby. Such a dirty little anal slut. You're going to come like this, aren't you? Greedy little thing, squeezing my cock with that back hole, making your pussy jealous."

 His thrusts grow rougher. His breath turns ragged.

 My whole reality shifts and blurs.

 "That's my good girl," Nico snarls into my ear as he buries his cock deep inside my ass. "Taking it so good. Taking it like a such a fucking good girl."

 It's like pulling a trigger. The second the words leave his lips and purr into my ears, my whole body writhes and shatters.

 The scream that rips from my throat is both unholy communion and sweetest deliverance. My entire body spasms, my nails clawing against the stone as the orgasm explodes through my core.

 Wave after wave crashes into me as I hear Nico groan. He grabs my hip hard with one hand and wraps a hank of my hair around the other as he buries himself balls-deep in me, muscles clenched hard at my back.

 And then he pumps his hot cum into my ass, growling against my skin, both of us collapsing to the stone wall.

 He doesn't let go. Just holds me there, arms wrapped around my chest, his breath warm against my neck.

 When he finally moves, he turns me gently, pressing his forehead to mine.

 Then he kisses me, hard and fierce.

 Like he's sealing something.

 "Mine," he murmurs.

 And I think, somewhere in this madness we've wrapped ourselves in...

 He's mine, too.