Hetakes his time, learning what makes me shake, what makes me sob his name. One hand grips my hip to keep me steady. The other slides up to tangle with mine—fingers laced together while he takes me apart.
The orgasm builds fast and bright, pleasure coiling tighter with every deliberate movement. When I shatter, his name rips from my throat and he works me through it, gentle now, until I'm boneless and shaking.
He kisses his way back up my body—stomach, ribs, the valley between my breasts. When he reaches my mouth, I taste myself on his tongue, and it's shockingly erotic.
"My turn," I breathe against his lips.
His eyes widen. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." I slide off the counter on unsteady legs, grip his denim-clad hips, and turn him so his back is against the edge. "Show me how."
The vulnerability in his expression nearly undoes me. This powerful man, this survivor of arenas and ice and years of loneliness—giving himself to me completely.
I sink to my knees and reach for his belt.
He helps me with shaking hands…and for a moment I freeze, thumb hooked in his waistband, heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I’ve never seen a man like this—not naked, not vulnerable, not offering himself with this kind of trust.
Curiosity and nerves collide in my chest, heat blooming through me as I ease his jeans down, inch by inch, until there’s nothing hiding him from me anymore. The sight steals my breath. He’s… more than I imagined. Real and heavy and… pulsing. Alive in a way that makes something low inside me clench with wanting.
Myfingers tremble as I reach out, unable to help myself, brushing lightly along the length of him just to prove he’s really there—warm skin, silken texture over rigid strength—and the shocked pleasure on his face sends a bolt of courage straight through me.
He's beautiful. Hard and ready andmine.
"Tell me what you like," I say, wrapping my hand around him experimentally. I didn’t know wanting could feel like this—tingling heat, boldness sparking in my fingertips, the dizzy realization that touching him is as intimate as being touched.
His hips buck. "Just—Goddess—just touch me. However you want."
I start with my hand, learning the weight and feel of him. Watch his face for reactions—the way his eyes flutter closed when I stroke upward, the sharp inhale when I circle the head with my thumb.
Then I lean forward and taste the little drop of his essence that’s pooled at the top. The groan that tears from his chest is the most erotic sound I've ever heard. His hand slides into my hair—not forcing, just holding on—while I explore. I don't have technique or experience, but I have enthusiasm and the desperate need to make him feel as good as he made me feel.
"Charity." My name is ragged. "You need to stop, or I'm going to—"
I don't stop. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, using my hand in tandem with my mouth the way instinct tells me. His thighs shake against my shoulders.
"Fuck—Charity—"
Hecomes with a broken shout, and I stay with him, swallowing, learning this too. When the shudders subside, I sit back on my heels and meet his eyes.
The look on his face—awe and possession and something so fierce it makes my heart stutter—is worth every moment of uncertainty.
"Come here," he breathes, pulling me up into a kiss that tastes like both of us. Like belonging.
We drift toward the bed this time, bodies already searching for the next point of contact. He backs me up until my legs hit the mattress and we tumble together onto the bed.
"Are you sure?" he asks one more time, hovering over me. "We can stop. We can wait."
"I'm sure." I pull him down. "I want this. I want you. Now."
He eases over me slowly, bracing a forearm beside my head, breath unsteady, body hot and solid against mine.
His hips sink between my thighs, the weight of him perfect, the heat of him everywhere, his body aligning with mine in a way that feels inevitable.
He positions himself at my entrance, and my breath catches. This is it. The moment I've been both craving and dreading. What if it doesn't work? What if I'm too small, too tight, too inexperienced?
"Breathe," he murmurs, kissing my jaw, my cheek, my temple. "We go slow. As slow as you need."
I nod, can't speak, and then I feel the first pressure.
