Saline.
Ointment.
Gauze.
He’d kissed the skin beside the wound.
The rest of my body tingled too—muscles trembling faintly, pussy sore from everything his cock had demanded.
And yet the erotic discomfort felt holy, not destructive. It was the kind of pain that said I was alive, claimed, tended to. That I had given and been given to.
That maybe forever wasn’t just for other people.
Kenji’s muscular hold was warmth pressed along my spine, a cage as much as a comfort, his thigh braced between mine, his heartbeat drumming slow into my back like a second pulse.
His scent wrapped around me too—smoked sandalwood and candied ginger.
Fiery, warm, and sweet.
Wood left to smolder.
Sugar just starting to burn.
Heady.
Decadent.
Slipping down my throat like forbidden liquor.
Each exhale made my body soften deeper into his.
His every inhale pressed me tighter into the wall of his abs, as they rose and fell against my spine.
In fact, breathing him in was just another form of being consumed—heat sliding into my lungs, his skin fusing with mine, as if no border between us existed anymore.
His cock pressed up against my ass, heavy and unapologetic. The pierced tip tickled me sometimes when he shifted. It was a teasing brush that sent sparks through the soreness already between my thighs.
It was also a promise of an orgasm he hadn’t even given me yet.
His balls rested against me too, warm and heavy, a silken drag of heat that made me crave him.
His body was a fortress wrapped around me, all walls, gates, and unbreakable stone, and yet inside those walls I had never felt freer. The heat of his cock pressed to my ass, the heavy drag of his balls against me—those were the anchors that told me eternity wasn’t some faraway horizon measured in clocks or calendars.
Eternity was touch.
It was the way his sweat still slicked our skin together, sealing me to him like mortar between bricks.
It was the way his breath moved over my ear, rough and steady, a sound I could live inside of and never get bored with.
It was the sensual ache of the bite he’d branded into my shoulder.
Forever was built out of flesh and pulse, out of the shiver that traveled my spine every time his pierced tip nudged me.
Forever was not endless days.
It was skin against skin.
His hunger carved into me, my surrender etched into him.
