Justin POV:
I kissed her again.
Brutal. Claiming.
Because I couldn’t take her silence.
Because I couldn’t take the way she made feel wanted.
Because I didn’t know how to be loved.
My hands were in her hair again, tugging until she gasped against my mouth, her body arching like it was begging to break her open all over again.
"Mine," I growled against her lips.
Her nails bit into my back. "Yours," she whispered, breathless.
That was all I needed to hear.
I lifted her into my lap, her thighs straddling mine as I leaned back against the door. Her chest pressed into , and I could feel the fast flutter of her heartbeat against my own. I kissed her again, slower this ti, dragging my lips along hers with a possessiveness that made my blood boil.
I needed to burn her into my mory.
Lotus.
I shifted, guiding her down, keeping her in my lap, our legs intertwined. Her knees bent, ankles locked behind as I kept her pressed tight. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Our foreheads touched, eyes locked. This position wasn’t for power. It wasn’t rough. It was devouring.
Her breath caught when I sank into her again, her body welcoming like it never wanted gone.
I moved slowly, grinding, rolling into her with a rhythm that made her cry out. Her fingers clawed at my shoulders, face buried in my neck as I whispered filth against her skin. All the things I’d never said. All the things I wanted her to rember.
Her lips trembled as she moaned my na—like it belonged to her.
"More," she begged.
I obliged.
I flipped her around, her body pliant in my arms. Pulled her into from behind, spooning her on the floor as I kissed the back of her neck. Her legs pressed together as I slid between them, arms curled under hers like I was anchoring her to the earth.
"Say it," I murmured, thrusting into her slow, deep, possessive.
"Yours," she gasped.
I kissed her shoulder.
"Say you’ll never want anyone else," I demanded, voice dark.
"Never. Just you. Only you."
I picked up pace. My hand wrapped around her throat gently, guiding her head back to so I could look into her eyes with every grind.
Her moans were wrecked. Whimpers.
I needed more.
I stood and pulled her up with , dragging her to the kitchen. Bent her over the table without a word. She braced herself, chest pressed to the cold surface, hair a ss around her face.
I stared at the curve of her spine, the way her ass arched up perfectly. The red marks from my hands still lingered from earlier. I ran a hand down her back, loving the way she shivered.
"You asked for rough," I said lowly.
She nodded.
I entered her again, slamming forward so hard the table legs scraped against the tile. Her hands scrambled for purchase.
"Say my na," I ordered.
"Justin—!"
"Louder."
"Justin, fuck—please."
I grunted, slamming into her again. Again. My hand found her hip, the other fisting in her hair, pulling her head back. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as I hit her deeper, angling with ruthless precision.
She clenched around like she was about to break apart, legs shaking, and I didn’t let up. I fucked her until her voice was hoarse from moaning. Until her body was limp over the table, twitching.
But I still wasn’t done.
I dropped to my knees behind her, pulled her back onto my lap.
Lotus again—but twisted now. She was spent and gasping, and I held her close as I rocked into her slowly again. More tender this ti, more consuming. She clung to like she needed this—like it was the only thing tethering her to sanity.
"Still mine?" I whispered.
She nodded desperately. "Always."
I kissed her. Softly. Just once.
Then I flipped her again, laying her on her side, curling in behind her.
Spooning again.
My arm looped around her waist as I slid into her one more ti, our bodies slick and aching and overstimulated—but wanting. Still wanting.
My lips brushed her ear. "I want to ruin you for anyone else."
"You already did," she whispered.
That sent a thrill through so dark it felt holy.
I started moving, slow, dragging it out this ti. Drawing soft moans from her throat with each rock of my hips. My fingers found her clit, rubbing gentle, teasing circles as I murmured filth into her ear, watching her fall apart again, writhing in my arms.
I gritted my teeth as she ca undone again, whispering my na over and over like a prayer.
Her body trembled, soaked and raw and perfect.
I finished inside her again—burying myself as deep as I could go, pressing her body tight to mine like I could seal us together. Mark her in every way. Own her.
We lay there after, tangled on the cold kitchen floor, breathless.
My lips pressed to her spine, her breath catching with every small kiss.
No more words.
No more gas.
Just her.
Just .
And a silence that tasted like sothing close to peace.
Her breath ghosted across my chest—slow, uneven, like the way you breathe when you’re trying not to cry. I stared at the ceiling, muscles still twitching, heart still galloping like it hadn’t figured out we were done.
Except... were we?
No. Not really. Not with the way her fingers still gripped my ribs like she was afraid I’d vanish. Not with the way I couldn’t stop the twitch in my jaw, the pressure behind my eyes.
My body had taken what it wanted.
My mind was still catching up.
She moved, just barely. Her thigh slid across mine, her cheek pressing into my skin. I wanted to shove her off. I wanted to pull her closer. I wanted her gone. I wanted her forever.
What the fuck is wrong with ?
I didn’t speak. Neither did she. We just laid there, caught in the heavy aftermath, naked and open and raw. Her skin slled like sex, like sweat, like everything that had just happened between us. I felt marked by it. Owned.
But then again, so was she.
And God, it made mad.
Because I wasn’t supposed to care.
I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her anymore. Not after what I saw. Not after that fucking telescope and that older guy and her towel dropping like I didn’t even exist. Like everything she ever told was a joke and I was the punchline.
But here she was, sprawled across my chest like she belonged there. And the sick part?
A deep, hungry part of wanted her there.
I licked my lips and tasted her.
"Get off ," I muttered, too quiet, too hoarse to sound like I ant it.
She didn’t move.
My hand found her shoulder, fingers curling into the bare slope of it. I could feel the edge of a bruise. Couldn’t tell if it was mine or soone else’s.
"June."
This ti louder.
She lifted her head slowly. Eyes wide. Vulnerable. A little dazed.
And fuck, she looked beautiful like that—like she was hanging by a thread. Like I could be the thing to either pull her back or cut her loose entirely.
"Justin..." she whispered.
No. Don’t do that. Don’t say my na like it ans sothing.
I pushed her off gently, but firmly, needing space. Needing clarity. I sat up, rubbed my hand down my face.
I could still feel her mouth on my neck. Her nails on my back. My na on her lips, over and over again, like a prayer or a curse.
She sat up behind , arms wrapping around my middle, pressing her cheek into my spine.
And for a second, I let her.
For a second, I leaned into it.
Because maybe I was weak.
Maybe I wanted the illusion more than the truth.
"Why are you here, June?" I asked, voice low.
She didn’t answer right away.
I could feel her breath catch, the way her body stiffened like I’d jabbed a needle through a sore spot.
"I didn’t have anywhere else to go," she said finally.
That hit harder than I expected.
"Not even your lover?" I spat before I could stop myself.
Her arms dropped instantly.
Silence. A pause. Then—
"What?" she asked, voice shaking.
I turned to look at her, bare and beautiful and wrecked, and I hated the part of that wanted to comfort her.
"I saw you," I said, my voice sharper now. "Through a telescope. Army showed . You and so older guy. Don’t even try to deny it."
Her face went pale. Her lips parted, but no sound ca out.
Then, slowly—like soone rewinding a broken film reel—she shook her head.
"That wasn’t—" Her voice cracked. "That wasn’t what it looked like."
"It never is," I snapped.
She flinched, wrapping her arms around herself, shrinking in front of .
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