Page 103 of The Scout

I did, my limbs still trembling as I faced him. His eyes were dark, ravenous, his jaw clenched tight with restraint. I reached for his shorts, yanking them down, freeing his thick, aching length. He was so fucking hard—hot and heavy in my hand, the tip already glistening.

I stroked him once, slow, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch.

He gritted his teeth. “Isabel.”

I smirked. “Yes?”

A growl ripped from his throat.

And then—he lifted me.

My legs wrapped around his waist, my back pressing against the stall door as he lined up and thrust inside me in one deep, brutal stroke.

I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he filled me completely, stretched me wide, made me feel him in every nerve, every inch of my body.

He didn’t start slow.

Didn’t give me time to adjust.

He just fucked me—hard, relentless, like he had been starving for this, for me.

The shower rained down on us, warm water mingling with sweat, with need. Every thrust sent pleasure rocketing through me, every snap of his hips driving me higher, higher, until I was nothing but sensation, nothing but his.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his grip on my thighs tightening. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasped, my body tightening around him. “I’m yours, Ryker.”

His thrusts turned savage, desperate. “Say it again.”

I dug my heels into his back, dragging him deeper, taking everything he gave me. “I’m yours.”

His breath hitched.

And then—he shattered.

He drove into me one last time, his body locking, his cock pulsing deep inside me as he groaned my name like a prayer.

I trembled in his arms, my own release crashing through me, pleasure curling hot and liquid in my veins.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Just panting, shaking, tangled together, water cascading around us.

Then—he pulled back, just enough to press his forehead to mine, his breath still ragged, his hands still locked around my hips.

His voice was low, rough. Possessive.

“You better be ready for round two later.”

I laughed, shaking my head, my fingers tracing the ridges of his abs. “You’re a menace.”

His smirk darkened. “You fucking love it.”

I did.

A shiver ran down my spine, but before I could say anything, he reached for my left hand, lifting it.

And then—he slid a ring onto my finger.

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