He lines up, pushing the head against my entrance. I whimper at the pressure—he’s too big, too thick—but I want it. I need it.
He presses in. My pussy stretches, protests, welcomes him.
“Gods, Aria,” he groans. “You’re so tight.”
I claw his back, legs wrapped around his waist. “Don’t stop.”
He sinks deeper. Every inch burns—delicious, overwhelming. I sob into his shoulder.
“You’re mine,” he whispers. “Every inch of you—mine.”
When he bottoms out, we both freeze. His cock is buried fully inside me, and I swear I feel him in my throat. My pussy flutters around him, stretched to the edge of pain and pleasure.
“Move,” I pant.
He does.
He thrusts slow at first—long, deep strokes that brush my clit and hit every nerve inside. I gasp with each one, moaning louder as the rhythm builds.
Then faster.
Harder.
His hips slam into mine, cock pounding my pussy with relentless force. He growls with each thrust. My moans turn to screams. The bed creaks. The walls blur.
“Fuck—Aebon—so deep?—”
“You were made for this,” he snarls. “Made for my cock.”
I come again—a full-body quake. My pussy grips him tight. He curses, pounding harder.
“I’m close,” he pants.
“Inside,” I gasp. “Come inside me.”
His thrusts turn savage. He slams in one last time, groaning deep.
He comes—cock twitching, cum flooding me in hot waves.
We collapse together—sweating, panting, hearts racing.
His hand cups my cheek. “You are my peace,” he whispers.
“And you are my home,” I breathe.
CHAPTER 31
AEBON REXX
Peace, it turns out, has a flavor.
Warm steel on the back of your tongue. The sharp-smooth texture of order and ozone, like the aftershock of lightning you didn’t have to dodge. I taste it every morning now—when I walk the perimeter of the Centauri tower, joints humming with half-healed war wounds, breath clouding the morning glass like it’s trying to say something it can’t spell.
Glimner hasn’t exploded in ninety-three days.
That’s not nothing.
That’s a miracle.
