Chapter 1: Claimed by Strength
The world shrank to the four posters of the bed, the air thick with the scent of her perfume—night-blooming jasmine and clean musk. It was the smell of her, of this room, of his surrender.
Astrid’s hand, strong and sure, pressed his shoulder into the mattress. The velvet bedspread was cool against his bare skin. Her biceps flexed as she leaned over him, a stray strand of her dark hair brushing his cheek. He was pinned, completely, and the weight of her was the only anchor he needed.
“You’re mine to spoil,” she whispered, her voice a low thrum that vibrated straight through his ribs. Her teeth found the sensitive hollow of his collarbone, a sharp, perfect nip that made him jolt. A laugh bubbled up in his throat, breathy and unsteady.
It melted into a sharp gasp as she moved, her body a study in effortless control. In one fluid motion, she flipped him, the world tilting until he was settled in her lap, his back to her front. Her thighs were solid beneath him. Her arms encircled his waist, holding him there.
“Astrid,” he breathed, the name a question and an answer.
“Shhh.” Her fingers splayed across his stomach, feeling the tremble there. Then they began to move, tracing the delicate, pronounced curve of his waist. Her touch was feather-light, almost teasing, mapping the architecture of him as if she were memorizing it. Each pass of her fingertips sent a fresh wave of heat across his skin. He leaned his head back against her shoulder, his eyes closing.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she murmured into his ear.
“Just… feeling.”
Her hand stilled for a moment, then pressed flat and warm against his diaphragm. “Good. Stay here with me.”
He let out a long, shaky exhale, the last of his tension seeping away into the plush blankets. This was the sanctuary. This was the only place where the static in his head went quiet. Her dominance wasn't a chain; it was a release.
She shifted beneath him, her grip tightening just a fraction. “I want to hear you say it.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I’m yours.”
Her pleased hum was a vibration against his spine. “That’s my boy.” Her fingers resumed their journey, drifting lower now, skating along the waistband of his sweatpants. The anticipation was a live wire, thrumming between them. He was completely, utterly hers, and in this room, wrapped in her scent and her strength, he had never felt more powerful. Her next move was inevitable, and he arched into the promise of it, ready for whatever came next.