He comes back up to me, mouth to mine again, gentler now.“Good.Because I’m never letting you go.”
He lays me down like I’m fragile and on fire at once, his body a shadow over mine.I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer, needing his weight, needing to feel him.His skin is hot and smooth against mine, the press of him grounding.
He kisses me everywhere; my neck, my shoulder, the underside of my breast, his hands never leaving my body.When he moves lower and finds the wet heat between my legs, his fingers part me slowly, stroking until my hips twitch up against his hand.
“Oh—fuck,” I breathe, my thighs trembling.
He circles his thumb over my clit, slow and rhythmic, his fingers sliding through the slick mess he’s making of me.I’m moaning now, soft at first, then louder, unrestrained.My back arches when he dips a finger inside me, and then another, careful but insistent.
“S’okay,” I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.“More, please.I need?—”
He groans, deep and low in his throat.“God, Angel… You’re so wet for me.”
He shifts, lining himself up, and I feel the heat of his cock against me, nudging at my entrance.He pauses.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do.His eyes are dark, burning.His hand cradles the side of my face, thumb brushing my cheek.
Then he pushes in.
The stretch is slow, steady, every inch of him sliding deep, and I feel it all.I whimper, overwhelmed, my nails raking his back as he bottoms out.
“F-fuck,” I breathe, forehead pressed to his.“You feel...God, you feel so good.”
He holds still for a moment, chest heaving.Then he begins to move, rolling his hips in a rhythm that makes me gasp, makes my toes curl, makes my whole body tremble.He rocks into me like he’s trying to show me something, like every thrust is a sentence he can’t say aloud.
You’re safe.
You’re mine.
This doesn’t have to hurt.
I wrap myself around him, thighs squeezing, arms pulling him closer, and let go.I cry at some point, tears sliding down my temples and into my hair, but it’s not from pain.It’s too much.Too tender.Too real.
He kisses the tears away without pausing, murmuring, “I’ve got you.I’ve got you, baby.”
I lose myself in the rhythm, in the slick slide of his body in mine, the delicious stretch, the aching closeness.My moans rise, sharp and needy.“Ah, ahhh!Fuck, yes, right there, please!”Until I’m shaking, legs clamped around his waist, hips bucking to meet every thrust.
And when I come, it crashes through me like a wave, blinding, raw.I cry out his name, “Ronan!”My body clenches around him, pulsing, shuddering.
He follows me seconds later, groaning into my mouth as he spills inside me, hips jerking, every muscle tight.His whole body presses into mine, and I feel it—the heat of him, the weight of him, his heart racing against mine.
We collapse into each other, tangled, slick with sweat and breathless.
He doesn’t let go.
And neither do I.
"Okay?"he asks.
"Better than okay."I press my face into his neck."Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being patient.For loving me even when I'm broken."
"You're not broken, Angel.You're healing.There's a difference."
