He doesn't rush to the core of me, doesn't demand entry.
Instead, he explores, palm sliding over the curve of my thigh, lifting my leg to hook around his waist.
The movement brings him closer, his cock nudging against my entrance, slick with my arousal, but he holds still, letting me feel the weight of him, the promise.
My heart pounds, a mix of fear and longing swirling in my chest.
I can feel the vulnerability creeping in, the fear that this will shatter me if it means more than a night.
But Gunnar's touch grounds me, his free hand weaving into my hair, cradling my head as he kisses my forehead, my eyelids, the tip of my nose.
Small, tender gestures that speak louder than any declaration.
"I've got you," he whispers, echoing my earlier thoughts. "Let me show you."
With that, he shifts, guiding himself to me carefully.
The head of his cock presses against my folds, parting them slowly as he eases in, inch by inch.
I tense at the stretch, the fullness of him filling me in a way that is both overwhelming and comforting.
He pauses halfway, eyes on mine, waiting for my nod before continuing.
When he is fully seated, buried deep inside my pussy, he doesn't move right away.
He simply stays there, our bodies joined, his forehead resting against mine.
"You feel... incredible," he breathes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Like you belong here. With me."
Tears prick my eyes again, but this time I don't hide them.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss as my hips rock experimentally.
Gunnar groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and begins to move.
His thrusts are measured, deep and unhurried, each one pulling a quiet moan from my lips.
He angles his hips just so, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my closed eyes, but he watches my face the whole time, adjusting based on my responses.
My hands roam his back, nails digging in lightly as pleasure builds, slow and steady like a tide rising.
I feel cherished in his rhythm, the way he braces one arm beside my head to keep his weight off me, the other hand stroking my side, my breast, my thigh.
He kisses my neck, my shoulder, murmuring words of affirmation between breaths. "So beautiful." "I need you." "You're everything."
The emotional weight presses down as much as the physical, making me cling tighter.
I meet his thrusts, my body rising to his, our skin slick with sweat.
The friction builds heat between us, my pussy clenching around his cock as he drives deeper, but it is the connection in his gaze that undoes me.
Gunnar cares—truly, deeply—and in this moment, I let myself believe it.
He shifts again, rolling his hips in a way that grinds against my clit with each stroke, drawing out my pleasure without overwhelming it.
My breaths come faster, my fingers tangling in his hair as I whisper his name. "Gunnar..."
"I'm here," he replies, voice strained with his own building release.
