She tightened her grip on his hip— pulled him back with each forward thrust so their bodies locked and the toy fit inside him fully. He felt so fucking good she didn't want to stop, her breathing sharp and trembling, beads of sweat along her brow and sticking her wild curls to her forehead.

"Fuck, Finnick." She cursed. Too close to yank his collar, she moved her hand from his hip to curve around and grasp him by the throat — not hard, not even enough to cut off air. Just to rest it there, like a reminder. "Never forget that you're mine."

Her hips shook again, teeth catching on his earlobe as the telltale quakes of her orgasm rolled through her.