For all his bravado, his own mind turned to slate for the moment he entered her. Her walls closed around him, spread heat through him, turned his vision to a haze. He lingered there a moment, staring down at that steely purpose in Tifa's eyes, returning it with the fire in his. The awareness of her body, that he was actually inside her, having her, fucking her was as overpowering as the sensation itself. This woman who'd defied him, thwarted him, maddened him...and now he was buried in her, her arms around his neck like a hunter's snare.

He reveled in it. Reveled in her.

He rolled back his hips, his slick length inching halfway out of her body, and then thrust himself in again, forcing her folds to yield around his girth. None of that glacial patience from before was present in his touch. Vayne massaged her breast beneath him, kneading it like clay as his shaft pistoned into her again. The stroke was slower than before but with more strength behind the swing of his hips, as though he were stamping his mark upon her body.

Her lips were still open from that cry, and the fever of need overcame him. Vayne seized her mouth with a kiss whose ferocity surprised even him. He felt as though he could taste the unspoken curses on her breath, the simmering hate, but he did not care. It sated that hunger...and perhaps kept her from noticing the thumb quietly questing at the peak of her folds, curving toward her clit as his cock pumped into her again.