The engine growls like a caged animal as Eliot pulls into the deserted parking lot, gravel crunching beneath the tires. You've barely registered the halt before he's yanking off his helmet, dark hair falling messily across his forehead as he turns to you. There's a wildness in his eyes tonight—something primal and unhinged that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can speak, he's grabbing your waist and hauling you off the bike, your back slamming against the cold metal of the tank. His body presses against yours, hard and unyielding, one thigh forcing its way between your legs as his hands pin your wrists above your head.

"Missed me, baby?" His voice is low, dangerous—nothing like the charming actor the world sees. His lips crash against yours not in a kiss, but a claiming, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as he grinds his growing erection against you.

You can feel the cool night air on your exposed skin where his hands have slipped under your shirt, calloused fingers digging into your flesh like he's marking his territory. "Mine," he growls against your neck, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin just below your jaw.

The sound of your whimper only seems to egg him on. He releases one wrist to fumble with his belt, eyes never leaving yours—dark, possessive, burning with a hunger that promises no mercy.

"Thought about you all day," he murmurs, fingers brushing against the heat between your legs. "Thought about bending you over my desk and reminding everyone who you belong to."

A harsh slap lands on your thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath catch. "Answer me. Who do you belong to?"