Rowland positions himself between my spread thighs,the head of his cock nudging my entrance. We’re both breathing hard, our hearts pounding in sync.
“I’ve waited an eternity for this moment,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “For someone who would accept me into her heart and into her beautiful body. For someone to give me the courage to fight back. For someone that makes me want to live.”
My chest tightens. The way he looks at me, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted, reaches a part of me no man has ever touched. All my life, I’ve only ever been useful to men. Useful for sex, useful for cleaning, useful for taking blame when things go wrong. But with Rowland, this is different.
I give him meaning.
The thought hits me like a revelation. I’m no longer a workhorse, a whore, a convenience, or a scapegoat. Rowland looks at me like I’m his salvation. Like my presence alone gives him a reason to keep breathing.
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to do with this feeling, this weight of being someone’s lifeline instead of their plaything. It’s both terrifying and thrilling. What if I let him down? What if I’m not strong enough to be what he needs?
But the desperate hope in his eyes makes me want to try.
“Let me be your everything,” I whisper.
He moves over me with trembling hands, his breath shaky against my neck. I can feel his nervousness in every touch, the way he hesitates like he’s afraid I might disappear.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
My heart clenches at the tenderness in his voice.After everything he’s endured, he’s still thinking of my comfort. I reach up and cup his face, my fingers sinking into his coarse beard.
“You won’t,” I reply, my voice breathy with need.
When he lines his cock at my entrance, it’s with a reverence that makes my chest ache. He pushes inside slowly, and I gasp at the sensation. He’s bigger than I expected, and my body needs time to adjust. But there’s no urgency in his movements, no selfish taking. Just careful exploration, like he’s memorizing every sensation.
“Oh god,” he groans, his entire body shuddering. “You’re so tight. Exquisite. My Annalisa.”
He says my name like a prayer, like I’m something sacred and worthy of worship. I slip my arms beneath his shirt and over his shoulders, feeling raised scars. Each mark tells a story of survival, of enduring hell.
Drawing back, he looks me full in the face. “Am I doing this right?”
His vulnerability breaks my heart. I pull him down for a kiss that tastes of salt and redemption. “Don’t stop. I’m not fragile. I want all of it. All of you.”
He sinks deeper, until he’s buried to the hilt. The connection between us becomes so incredible, my muscles tighten around his impossibly thick shaft. He presses his forehead into mine and moans, “You feel divine. Like you were made for me.”
Maybe I was. Maybe all the shit I’ve endured led me to this moment, to a man like Rowland whose suffering far eclipses mine. I dig my fingers into his muscled back, wrap my legs around his thighs and rock my hips.
“I could stay inside you like this for a thousand years and it wouldn’t be enough. You’re my sun, my moon, mysalvation. The star guiding me out of this eternal darkness.”
My pussy spasms. “Oh, Rowland.”
“Fuck. If you keep squeezing me like this, I’ll implode. Is that what you want from me? To see me come undone?”
“Move… Please.”
He pulls back, stretching me as he withdraws. His bulbous cock head drags along every nerve ending, only for him to enter me again with a hard thrust. Sensation overloads my core, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. He continues fucking me with long, rhythmic strokes that make my toes curl.
“I love you, Annalisa, to the very marrow of my bones,” he says, the words raw, wrecked.
Throat closing, I turn my head. It’s the one word I can’t hear without flinching, flung so casually by manipulative men and used as bait. I swallow, not believing it even though a secret part of me hopes he means every word. I cling to his shoulders and moan into his skin. His hand finds my cheek, forcing me to meet his burning gaze.
“When I save you, you’ll say it back,” he murmurs.
“O-okay,” I rasp. “I will.”
And I mean it. Every other man I’ve been with was about maintaining a lifestyle. What I have with Rowland isn’t just survival. It’s something deeper. A partner, a protector, a kindred spirit. Someone just as broken as me.
He quickens his strokes, pounding into me harder, the desk creaking under our weight. His mouth finds mine, swallowing my cries as he drives me higher and higher. I lose myself in his touch, in his motions, in his thrusts.
