The room was filled with the heavy scent of their passion, the aftermath of Daemond's unleashed desire. The air buzzed with the intensity of what had just transpired, a primal energy lingering between them. Mahnoor lay beside him, her body still tingling, her breathing heavy and uneven. Daemond, his chest rising and falling rapidly, was equally spent, but his gaze remained fixated on her, almost in disbelief at how far they had gone.
Mahnoor, still lost in the heat of the moment, whispered his name, her voice drenched in satisfaction. "Daemond…" she moaned, a soft sound that carried the weight of everything she had brought out of him.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she moved, straddling him once more. Her hands found their way to his neck, gripping it with a firm yet controlled choke. She leaned in close, her lips just inches from his, her eyes burning with an intensity that matched his own moments ago.
"Told you," she said, her voice low but full of authority, "you're enough for me."
Her words were a mixture of praise and possession, a declaration of everything she had envisioned from the moment she laid eyes on him. The controlled chaos of the past few months, the tension, the confusion—it had all been leading up to this moment, where she had broken him down, made him hers in the way she always knew she could.
"I knew you had this in you," she continued, her grip on his neck tightening slightly, just enough to make him feel the pressure of her control. "You just needed me—Mahnoor—to get it out of you exactly how I wanted you from day one."
Her eyes bored into his, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she watched the realization dawn on him. She had orchestrated this, molded him into exactly what she needed, and now she had him—completely and utterly.
"Now I have you like that finally!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with triumph. Her fingers relaxed around his neck, but her eyes never lost their fire.
Daemond, lying beneath her, felt the weight of her dominance. He was still breathless, his body spent, but there was a strange sense of relief mixed with the tension in his chest. She had drawn out something in him that he hadn't even known was there—a wildness, an intensity that only she could ignite.
Mahnoor shifted slightly, her body still pressed against his, and then she leaned down again, her lips brushing against his ear. "You are mine, Daemond," she whispered fiercely, her voice dripping with possessiveness.
Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and for a moment, he felt both powerless and liberated all at once. She had claimed him, body and soul, and the truth was undeniable. This was what she had wanted from the very beginning, and now, there was no escaping it.
Daemond didn't resist. He couldn't. He felt her dominance, her manipulative nature weaving through every touch, every word. And though a part of him struggled with the intensity of it all, there was another part of him—one that had been buried deep—that wanted to surrender.
Because in this moment, as Mahnoor gripped him tightly, she had him exactly where she wanted him: completely, utterly, and irrevocably hers.