Page 71 of Gathered Sparkle

God, he’s insufferable. Infuriating.

And I want him so fucking bad.

“I need you to fuck me.”

A growl rumbles from his chest, his restraint splintering at the edges.

His fingers fly to his shirt as he stands, stripping it off in one fluid motion. The lines of his chest and abdomen flex as he shoves down his jeans and briefs, kicking them aside.

Fuck.

He’s hard, his cock jutting up between us, flushed and thick, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.

The sight of him bare before me makes me feel empty. Needy. Like I won’t be whole until he’s inside me.

When I look up, his eyes pin me in place, but his touch is a whisper of control. His hand glides into my hair, his fingers threading through the strands, a gentle but possessive hold that makes my scalp tingle.

“Look at you.” His grip tightens just enough to tilt my head back, exposing my throat and making me feel vulnerable and owned. “Fucking perfect.”

His mouth crashes onto mine, claiming me in a kiss that’s all heat and desperation. His lips are demanding, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I taste myself on him—salt, sweetness, and the tang of desire.

So fucking hot.

A moan escapes me, my body melting under the intoxicating blend of his dominance and my own need. He groans into my mouth, deepening the kiss, his teeth grazing my lower lip, tugging just enough that a sweet kind of pain blooms.

I gasp against him, my fingers digging into his shoulders, into the warmth of his skin, like I need to hold onto something solid before I lose myself completely.

He pulls back, and my lungs drag in air as if I’ve been drowning in him, like he’s the only thing keeping me alive. Without a word, his hands move to my waist, gripping me firmly. The way he handles me isn’t rough, but it’s commanding, guiding me. He knows exactly where and how he wants me, as though I was made to fit beneath his hands.

In one smooth motion, he lifts me and guides me farther up the bed. It’s effortless. Like I weigh nothing to him. My back sinks into the plush mattress, the sheets cool against my overheated skin as he positions me.

A perfect contradiction. His movements are heavy with control, yet his touch is soft with something I can feel settling between my ribs. His thighs press against mine as he spreads me open, his gaze drinking me in, devouring me like I really am the most precious thing he’s ever held.

I should be nervous. But I’m not. Not with him.

“Do you want me to use a condom?”

The question should feel clinical, but from Koen, it doesn’t. He’s asking because he cares. Because he won’t take a single inch of me without making sure I want to give it.

“Sylus and I got tested. We’re both clean. And… I tied my tubes.”

“Of course you two did.” His lips twitch, the faintest smile breaking through the heat in his eyes before something more serious settles in.

“I haven’t been with anyone in years. Do you trust me?”

“I do.” The answer comes out without hesitation. Without doubt.

His expression softens, but his hunger doesn’t waver. If anything, it deepens like my answer flipped a switch inside him.

The bed dips under his weight as he crawls over me, his body a cage of warmth and solid muscle. His face hovers just inches above mine as his eyes lock onto me as if he can see right through to my soul. “You’re mine, precious,” he whispers, every syllable dripping with conviction. Not a question. Not a demand. A truth. A vow. “And I’m going to remind you exactly how worthy you are.”

The air shifts, the space between us vanishing as he kisses me again.

But this time, it’s not just heat.

It’s devotion.

It’s falling, fast and headfirst, into something I don’t want to run from anymore.

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