“Yes—oh, fuck—Roja?—”
He growls into me, lapping slow, deliberate strokes that build heat in my belly like a fuse burning down. His claws are careful, but his tongue isn’t gentle. It’s demanding, and I give, moaning louder with each wave of pleasure.
I come against his mouth, legs trembling, thighs tight around his head. He doesn’t stop until I’m twitching, over-sensitive and breathless.
Then he moves up, lining himself against me.
“I won’t fit,” he mutters. “Not all at once.”
“Then do it slow,” I whisper. “I want to feel it all.”
He nods, pressing forward—careful, patient. My body stretches, stings, then opens. I cry out, but not in pain. It’s too much. It’s perfect.
He slides deeper, inch by inch, until he’s seated fully inside me. My pussy clenches around him, and Roja groans into my neck.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
“Move,” I whisper. “Please.”
He does.
Every thrust is slow, controlled. He kisses me when he moves, one hand behind my head, the other gripping my thigh. His cock fills me completely, dragging against every nerve ending until I’m lost in it—lost in him.
“I’ve never—” he pants. “Not like this.”
“Me neither.”
We fuck like we’re memorizing each other. Every motion is a vow. Every gasp a confession. I come again, nails digging into his back, crying his name.
He follows, body shaking, mouth buried in my shoulder as he spills inside me.
Afterward, I curl into his side, my fingers playing with the rough hairs on his chest. He smells like ozone and steel and something faintly smoky, like scorched wires.
“You could’ve lied,” I murmur.
“About what?”
“About what you used to be. The enforcement. The bodies.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you to know the whole of me. Even the broken parts.”
I glance up. “Then you should know I’ve killed, too. More than once.”
He nods like he’s always known.
“It doesn’t scare you?”
“No,” he says. “Because I know the reasons matter. And I trust yours.”
My throat tightens.
“I’ve never had that before.”
“You do now.”
