Too...

“Lachlan,” she breathed, her voice catching as my thumb grazed her clit in a particularly torturous circle, and I chuckled darkly at the way her body instinctively arched, chasing after my hand.

“You haven’t earned it yet, love,” I growled low, slipping away from that sensitive button she so desperately needed me to touch. "You either beg properly, or you'll come on my time.”

She whimpered, a lovely, desperate sound that sent a pulse of heat straight to my cock. God, she was gorgeous like this, strung tight, just on the edge of breaking with pleasure but held back by my command—by that relentless line of control I knew she'd only surrender to one man: Me.

"Please, Lachlan," she finally gasped, her fingers curling into the sheets beside her, gripping them hard enough her knuckles turned white. “Please, I want you. I need you."

I smirked, leaning down to kiss the heated skin just beneath her collarbones, my lips trailing lower until I reached one full breast. I traced my tongue over her tight nipple and reveled in the way her body jerked, the way her breath stuttered as I took the hardened peak between my teeth, biting down gently. Not enough to hurt—yet.

"What do you need, Quinn?" I prodded, voice dark and gravelly as I released her nipple with a wet pop. “I like to hear you beg for it.”

She sucked in a breath, those pretty blue eyes of hers swimming with both frustration and submission, as if she hated that I could push her to this edge, hated that I pulled her strings so effortlessly. And yet, I could see the raw want deep in her gaze—the starving need to be taken, to be owned.

“I need your cock,” she whimpered, her hips bucking slightly, those thighs slick with heat and open for me. "Please, Lachlan. I’ll be good. I promise."

Her words were the final spark that lit the fire in me beyond control. She was begging now, and fuck, how I loved hearing her beg.

I growled low, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck as I pressed my mouth hard to hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft—it was possession, pure and undeniable, my other hand reaching between her legs to plunge two fingers inside her in one smooth stroke.

She gasped into my mouth, her thighs trembling as I pumped my fingers rhythmically, curling them just enough to hit that delicate spot inside her that had her moaning messily into the kiss. Her body trembled beneath mine, her hips twisting in slow, needy circles against my palm as she rode my hand shamelessly.

“Look at you,” I whispered against her lips, pulling back just enough to take in the sight of her. “Such a good girl for me. Desperate to please."

She panted for breath as I sped up the movements of my fingers, her juices coating my hand in decadent warmth. I pulled away and let her thighs fall further open as I watched her face, saw her brows draw together in that beautiful mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

"Lachlan... please..." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it held all the power of someone who finally knew what she needed—what I would give her if she just asked the right way.

“Ask properly,” I commanded again, withdrawing my hand from her core, slick with her need, before slowly dragging my fingers up her heaving belly, tracing them between her breasts. She whimpered at the loss.

Her lips parted, her beautiful blue eyes open and vulnerable beneath me as they clung to mine

“I’ll... I’ll be good,” she panted, her hands once more finding the sheets beneath her as though she couldn’t ground herself at all without holding something. “Please… sir. Please fuck me.”

Her last words came out in a hoarse, breathless cry, and my cock twitched at the sound of 'sir' falling from her lips. I'd wanted her like this from the beginning—knew it the first time I saw her. She responded to power even when she tried to deny it. The submission was already in her—the hunger, the need to be ruled by someone who understood just how dark those places inside her really were.

I growled low, taking her wrist in my hand and dragging it to my cock. “You want this?” I demanded, pressing her delicate fingers around my hard length and making her stroke me slow—so fucking slow it was agony. “Then you’ll earn it, Quinn.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes swimming with desire, her lips trembling as though she didn’t trust herself to obey because the heat between us was too intense.

But she nodded. And fuck, that obedience ignited something feral inside me.

I let her fingers linger on my cock for a moment longer, watching her eyes flicker between awe and need before swiftly pulling her hand away and pinning it above her head, fingers entwined with my own. My other hand traced possessive lines down her side, savoring the way her hips shifted restlessly under me, the way she arched up, wordlessly pleading for more.

I positioned myself between her thighs, guiding the swollen head of my cock to tease the slick entrance of her core. She was soaking, desperate. I could feel the trembling tension in her body, could sense how close she was to breaking under my control, just how much she needed to give in. But I wouldn’t reward her yet, not until I’d pulled every last ounce of submission from her.

"Tell me again," I growled, grinding my length against her entrance. The words scraped up from somewhere dark inside me. "Tell me you belong to me."

Her breath hitched, her body arching as the tip of my cock breached her folds, just enough to make her gasp but not nearly enough to give the satisfaction she craved.

"I—I belong to you," she whispered, her voice shaking, her eyes half-lidded and dazed with lust.

"Again," I demanded, rocking forward just slightly, filling her a little more, the teasing slow torture for both of us.

“I—belong—to you,” she repeated, voice more insistent, her nails digging into my hand that still pinned her above her head. “Please, Lachlan... Sir. I’m yours.”

Those words finally unraveled the last of my control. I surged forward, burying myself fully inside her tight, wet heat with one dominating thrust. Her cry of pleasure echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls like a siren's song, and I gritted my teeth, fighting the primal urge to unravel too soon.

“That's right,” I ground out through clenched teeth, feeling her muscles tighten around me. “You’re mine, Quinn. Only mine.”

I began to move, pulling out agonizingly slow before slamming back in—harder, faster, each stroke eliciting choked gasps from her throat, each thrust forcing her body to yield with absolute surrender. Her legs wrapped around my waist, drawing me deeper, her back arching with every stroke until she was practically offering herself up on a platter to be devoured whole.

And God—she was perfect. The way her body responded to me, the way her mouth opened in silent screams, begging without words for something more, something primal, something only I could give her.

Every roll of my hips drove her closer to that precipice, her eyes glassy and unfocused, her breaths coming in broken, desperate pants. I could feel myself spiraling toward the inevitable end, the way her body gripped me like a vice, already trembling on the edge of her own release.

“Come for me,” I growled, low and rough, wrapping my hand tighter in her hair, pulling her head back slightly so that she met my gaze, so that she knew who owned her pleasure in this moment. "Now."

Her body reacted instantly. She shattered around me, her walls convulsing, squeezing me relentlessly as she drowned in her orgasm, her voice breaking into a keening cry that pierced the air like music to my ears. She was beautiful in her surrender, in her complete and utter loss of control. And it was mine—the sight, the sound, the feel of her. All of it belonged to me.

The force of her release pulled me along with her. With a final, brutal thrust, I spilled inside her, groaning her name like a benediction, my fingers tightening on her hip to anchor myself as the waves of pleasure surged through me.

For several moments, the world around us melted away, leaving only the two of us entwined in the aftermath. Our heavy breathing mingled in the quiet room, the heady scent of sex in the air, as I finally let go of her hands, my body collapsing gently over hers. Her arms came up to encircle my shoulders, delicate and trembling, as if to hold me close in the glow of what we had just shared.

I rested my forehead against hers, still inside her, still feeling the aftershocks of our mutual release pulsing through us like a tether, binding us together in a way neither of us could deny.

“You belong to me,” I whispered once more, softer this time, a statement of fact, of possession, but now laced with something gentler. “And I’ll never let you go.”

She didn’t answer, not with words, but the way she clung to me, the way she melted into the bed beneath me, told me everything I needed to know. For now, in this moment, I had her. And by the time she realized how deep she had fallen, it would be too late for her to ever leave.

---

Hours later, long after Quinn had drifted into the peaceful hum of sleep, I lay beside her, staring up at the ceiling as my mind replayed the secrets I had spilled earlier. Caleb. The name clawed at the edges of my consciousness.

I’d told her more than I’d ever anticipated. More than anyone had a right to know. But it wasn’t just about trust—it was about the game. Quinn needed to know just enough to tether her to me, to bind her curiosity inextricably with her attraction. She wasn’t ready for the deeper truths—the ones that still haunted me, the ones that made my empire unshakable but stained in blood.

But I’d give her the illusion of control. Slowly. Piece by piece. I’d feed her just enough of the darkness to keep her coming back, to make her feel like she was unraveling the mystery of Lachlan McIntyre. The truth would come—but on my terms. Always on my terms.

She would write my story. Unveil parts of me that I’d only ever allowed to remain hidden.

But more importantly, she would be mine while doing it. Indefinitely.

I looked over at her sleeping form, so peaceful, so blissfully unaware of what she had just committed to. But soon enough, she would feel every weight, every consequence of being tied to a man like me. And when that time came, I wondered if she’d still stay willingly.

Maybe. Maybe not.

But by then, it wouldn’t matter.

She’d be too deep.

Too consumed.

Too in love.

With me.

And the game would be mine to control.