Pucking the Captain
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breathing still ragged, his bloody hands still cradling my face like I was something sacred.
"You're my boyfriend," he murmured, his voice a dark, possessive rumble that sent a fresh wave of heat straight to my groin, completely cutting through the emotional heaviness. "Out there, in here, I don't give a fuck anymore. You're mine, Jules. And I'm never letting you go."