The first touch of his tongue made me cry out.
He worked me open slowly, thoroughly—tongue and then fingers, stretching and teasing until I was pushing back against him, desperate for more. His hands grabbed my cheeks with possession and need. Time lost meaning. There was only sensation, only pleasure building in waves, only his hands and mouth claiming every part of me.
"Ready?" he asked finally, positioning himself above me.
"Yes. God, yes?—"
He pushed in.
Slow. So impossibly slow, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. The stretch was exquisite, right on the edge of too much, and when he finally bottomed out I felt complete in a way that defied description.
"Okay?" His voice was strained, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still.
"Move." I pushed back against him. "Please move."
He performed long, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot. His chest pressed against my back, his mouth hot on my neck, his hands intertwined with mine against the mattress. We moved together like we'd been doing this forever—perfectly synchronized, breath and heartbeat aligned. My back arched, my ass up, and my face against the bed, all giving me a sense of naughtiness as his thrusts clapped against my cheeks. I was so hard it almost hurt.
"I love you," he murmured against my ear. "I love you so much it terrifies me."
"I love you too." I turned my head, caught his mouth in a deep kiss. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He pressed his hands against my back and shifted his angle, hitting that spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.
“Oh, fuck, Axel!” I came with his name on my lips, spilling onto the sheets below, shot after shot, with what felt like no ending in sight. My powerful orgasm clenched my hole with each burst, bringing Axel over the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He growled, burying himself all the way in one strong thrust and unloading everything into me.
He collapsed onto my back, small sudden tremors still echoing his release. I felt full and whole, his still rock-hard cock in me. I didn’t want him to pull out.
"Stay," he whispered against my hair. "Stay forever."
"Okay." I grabbed his arms, motioning them to encircle my chest, and pulled him closer to me, our bodies almost merging. "Okay."
Later—much later—Hawk found me in the hallway. I was heading to the kitchen for water, loose-limbed and drowsy, when he stepped out of the shadows like he'd been waiting.
"Kai. Got a minute?"
"Sure." I leaned against the wall, trying to look more alert than I felt. "What's up?"
"Two things." His weathered face was unreadable. "First—Jake's ceremony. Day after tomorrow. He's healed enough to stand, and the boy's more than earned his patch. Church already voted."
"That's great. He'll be thrilled."
"He will." Hawk's dark eyes studied me. "Second thing's about you."
"Me?"
"You've been with us a couple weeks now. Proven yourself ten times over. Saved lives, took lives, stood by Axel through everything." He paused. "The men have noticed."
"I'm not looking for recognition?—"
"I know. That's part of why you're getting it." A hint of a smile crossed his face. "I'm not talking about a patch, Kai. You're not cut out for the outlaw life, and that's fine. But there's another tradition. Older. For the partners of members."
My heart stuttered. "What kind of tradition?"
