I kiss her deeply, swallowing her soft cries while forcing myself to remain still. The control required not to move borders on agony, but I won't cause her unnecessary pain.
"It hurts," she whispers against my lips, "but it's also giving me pleasure. The pressure, the feeling of being stretched by you, taken by you."
This beautiful woman, trusting me with her innocence, finds pleasure even in her discomfort.
She lifts her legs, wrapping them around my waist and tilting her hips up in silent invitation. The change in angle allows me to slide deeper, and I push forward slowly until I'm buried completely inside her.
Christ. She's perfect. So tight, so warm, so wet around me that I have to fight not to lose control immediately.
I pull back slightly before sliding in again, establishing a slow, controlled rhythm. Each thrust is deliberate, measured, and designed to stretch her gently while building her pleasure.
Her hands caress my back as I move within her, nails digging in slightly when I hit a particularly sensitive spot. I continue massaging her clit while maintaining the gentle pace, kissing her deeply with each stroke.
"Anton," she moans against my mouth, her voice filled with wonder and growing pleasure.
The sound of my name on her lips as I claim her innocence pushes me closer to the edge. I can feel my control fraying with each thrust, each sweet moan that escapes her throat.
Her walls flutter around me as another climax builds within her, and the sensation proves to be my undoing. With one final, deep thrust, I explode inside her, filling her with my release as waves of pleasure crash over me.
I collapse against her, careful not to crush her, both of us breathing hard.
I gather Fee against my chest, pressing gentle kisses to her temple as aftershocks ripple through both our bodies. Her breathing slowly evens out against my neck, warm puffs of air that make my skin tingle.
When I shift to look at her, crimson catches my eye.
Blood streaks my cock and stains the sheets beneath us. Evidence of what I've taken, what she's given. My chest tightens with something primal and possessive.
"Solnishko, are you allergic to any medications?"
Her brow furrows at the unexpected question. "No, why?"
I kiss her forehead before reluctantly pulling away. "I'll be right back."
The floor is cold against my bare feet as I pad to the kitchen. In the cabinet above the espresso machine, I find a bottle of ibuprofen. Two pills rattle into my palm before I fill a glass with filtered water.
When I return, Fee has pushed herself up against the headboard, the sheet clutched to her chest. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders, her lips still swollen from my kisses. She looks radiant, beautiful, my little sun.
Her gaze drops to the bloodstained sheets, and her cheeks flame scarlet.
"Oh God, Anton. We got blood all over your sheets."
I set the water and pills on the nightstand before sitting beside her. My fingers trace the line of her jaw, tilting her face up to meet my eyes.
"This is the most precious gift I've ever received. That blood represents your trust, your choice to give me something no one else will ever have."
Every stain is sacred. Her eyes shimmer with emotion as she processes my response.
"Are you in much pain?" I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, searching her expression for signs of serious discomfort.
"I'm sore," she admits, shifting slightly against the pillows. "But I don't regret it. Not for a second."
Relief floods through me at her honesty. I reach for the pills, placing them in her palm before offering the water.
"Take these. They'll help with the soreness."
She swallows the medication, her throat working as she drains half the glass. When she hands it back, I set it aside and pull her against my chest again.
"You were perfect, Solnishko. Absolutely perfect."
