So I push in—slow, deep, devastating.
Her gasp collides with mine.
She arches under me, her hands gripping my shoulders, her thighs tightening around my hips.I bury myself inch by inch, and it’s too much and not enough all at once.She’s tight, warm, home.I don’t know how I ever survived without this—without her.
“Jesus, Kit.”My forehead drops to hers.“You feel like fucking salvation.”
She whimpers, her nails digging into my back.“Don’t stop.Don’t ever stop.”
I start to move—slow thrusts, deep and rhythmic, dragging every nerve to the surface.She clings to me, her breath catching with every roll of my hips.Her legs wrap around my waist, locking me in as I thrust again and again, building that friction, the burn, the unbearable pleasure.
I kiss her like I’m trying to make her believe every lie I ever told and every truth I couldn’t say.
“I missed you,” I whisper against her lips.
Her body trembles.“Show me.”
So I do.
I thrust inside her like she’s everything—because she is.I drive into her with intention, with worship, with desperation.Her hands are everywhere—my hair, my chest, my face.Her lips find mine again, greedy.Every sound she makes owns me a little more.
She’s unraveling beneath me—slow, breathtaking.
Each thrust draws her closer to the edge, but I don’t rush her.I feel every tremble in her thighs, every gasp caught between our lips, every desperate arch of her body like a plea she doesn’t know how to say aloud.
Her moans shift—higher, breathier, strung tight with need.Her hips roll against mine, meeting me stroke for stroke, slick and hot and fucking perfect.Her walls flutter around me, that telltale clutch sending lightning up my spine.
But I want more.I want to watch her fall apart.I want her to know it’s me doing this to her—for her.
I slow down.Just slightly.I grind deeper, hips rolling, hitting that spot that makes her cry out and clamp around me.
“That’s it,” I murmur into her mouth, voice rough and reverent.“You feel that, baby?Right there?”
She whimpers—so goddamn close.
Her fingers claw down my back, and I catch her gaze, hold it, refusing to let her look away.“Come for me again.Let me feel you lose yourself.”
And then it happens.
Her lips part in a silent gasp first.Her eyes flutter closed, then snap open, dazed and wide as her body locks beneath mine.She grabs at me—my shoulders, my hair, whatever she can hold onto as her climax crashes through her like a fucking storm.
“Roderick—” she sobs, and it’s not just pleasure—it’s release.Years of wanting.Years of silence.Everything we couldn’t say pouring out of her in one broken cry.
Her body pulses around me, pulling me deeper, tighter.Her legs wrap around my waist like she’s anchoring herself to this moment, to me.
And I let go.
I come hard, gasping her name into her neck, every muscle in my body seizing as I empty into her, shuddering through it, lost and found all at once.
I don’t move right away.I can’t.I just stay there, buried in her, our chests heaving, sweat-slicked skin pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.
I kiss her—slow, aching, full of everything I can’t say yet.And everything I already know.
She’s mine.
And I press my forehead to hers again.
Because I just got her back.
