The bass thrummed through the walls of Jake’s apartment, the scent of spilled beer and sweat thick in the air. Aria adjusted the strap of her lace top, the fabric clinging to her dusky curves like a second skin, the hem of her skirt riding up her thighs as she swayed to the music. She wasn’t drunk—just buzzed enough to feel the heat pooling between her legs every time she caught **Darian’s** gaze across the room.
He was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his fair skin glistening under the dim overhead lights. His shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. Aria had always thought he was hot—like, *drop-dead, take-me-right-here* hot—but tonight, with the way his lips quirked when he saw her looking, she was done pretending she wasn’t desperate to feel his hands on her.
She made her way over, weaving through the crowd of their friends, her skirt swishing against her thighs. “You’re staring,” she accused, nudging his arm with her hip.
Darian didn’t flinch. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the crook of his body, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re the one in that fucking skirt, teasing every guy in here.”
Aria gasped, her nipples hardening under her lace top. “I wasn’t—”
“Shut up,” he growled, and then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. Aria melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest to tangle in his hair. He tasted like whiskey and sin, his tongue pushing past her lips to claim her in a kiss that left her breathless.
His hands were everywhere—gripping her ass, squeezing her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Aria moaned into his mouth, her body arching against his as he lifted her onto the kitchen counter with ease, his strength making her dizzy.
“Darian—” she whimpered as his fingers hooked under the hem of her skirt, dragging it up her thighs. He didn’t waste time. He yanked her panties to the side, his fingers finding her soaked and ready, and Aria cried out as he slid two thick digits inside her with a groan.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he fingered her with deep, punishing strokes. Aria’s head fell back, her nails scraping against the counter as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
“Oh god—Darian, please—”
“Please what?” he taunted, his thumb circling her clit with maddening precision.
Aria whimpered, her hips jerking against his hand. “Yes—fuck, yes—”
He didn’t make her wait. With a smirk, he unbuckled his belt, freeing his cock with a rough tug. Aria’s eyes widened at the sight—thick, veiny, and already leaking precum. Darian didn’t give her time to overthink. He grabbed her by the thighs and pulled her to the edge of the counter, lining himself up before slamming into her with one brutal thrust.
Aria screamed, her back arching off the counter as he stretched her wide, his cock hitting deep with every punishing stroke. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he fucked her like he owned her, his balls slapping against her ass with wet, obscene sounds.
“That’s it, take my dick,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. “You’re mine, Aria. Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she gasped, her pussy clenching around him as he pistoned in and out of her. “Fuck, Darian—I’m yours—”
He growled, his rhythm turning erratic as he chased his own release. Aria’s nails dug into his shoulders, her body trembling as pleasure crashed over her in waves. “Good girl,” he panted against her ear, his voice dark with approval. “Come on my cock.”
And she did—shattering around him with a broken cry, her walls fluttering as she milked him dry. Darian followed with a groan, his cock pulsing as he filled her with thick ropes of cum, his fingers digging into her thighs hard enough to bruise.
They collapsed against each other, breathless and sated, Darian’s forehead pressed to hers as they both came down from the high.
Later, they stumbled into one of the bedrooms, limbs tangled, clothes discarded in a heap on the floor. Darian pulled Aria against his chest, her back to his front, his arms wrapping around her like a vice. She was half-asleep, her body still humming from the aftershocks of their rough fucking, when he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.
“You’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive.
Morning came too soon.
Aria woke to the sound of laughter and the sharp *click* of a camera phone. She bolted upright, her heart hammering as she took in her surroundings—definitely not her room. Then she felt it—the weight of Darian’s arm around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. And the *lack* of clothes.
Oh. Fuck.
She turned her head, her stomach dropping when she saw the deep purple hickeys adorning her skin, the same marks no doubt decorating Darian’s neck. And then the bedroom door swung open, and their friends poured in, phones raised, grins wicked.
“Holy shit,” Jake crowed, snapping another photo. “Look at the hickeys! Did you two finally fuck?”
Aria buried her face in Darian’s shoulder, mortified. “Shut up!”
Darian just chuckled, pulling her closer. “Too late, baby. The cat’s out of the bag.”
She groaned, but she couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips as he pressed a kiss to her temple.