His eyes flared wide, dazzling me with bronze need. “Yes, exactly.”
The moment stretched for far too long, somehow turning this from fucking to something unbearably precious.
With our gazes still locked, he pushed inside me.
A breathless cry escaped me as discomfort blazed. I squirmed beneath him, trying to find relief from the pinching, consuming pressure of him filling me.
I’d been terrified once of taking him. Horrified at his huge size, so sure he would never fit, but inch-by-inch he stretched me, changing my whole perception.
My core rippled around him, welcoming and rebelling against his invasion.
He was perfect.
Utterly perfect.
Our foreheads crashed together as he sank deeper anddeeper. Only once he was completely sheathed did he close his eyes and kiss me again. Pleasure seeped from the one place where we were joined—the only place we were naked.
It was carnal, lewd, and fit my salacious need better than any position.
I reached up to kiss him back, diving my fingers into his sweat-misted hair. His body radiated heat, trembling above me as I sucked his tongue into my mouth.
He didn’t stop me. He didn’t try to control me. He gave that part of himself, so gently and sweetly, my heart cracked with unknown joy.
I rocked my hips, grinding myself on his thick cock, seeking the solace from the overbearing need to explode. My mind scrambled with the primitive instinct to fuck, to claim, to drive each other until we burst and this intolerable hunger would be sated.
The rawness of being laid bare, of being full to the brink and taken so thoroughly, pushed me to the edge of an orgasm.
My knuckles turned white as I anchored myself on his waist. My mind swirled with vertigo as the first scrumptious rock annihilated my world.
There was no shame or shyness.
This was beyond that.
This was the first true thing that’d happened to me in my entire life.
My gaze locked with his, unable to look away.
In that moment, he owned me. I’d do anything he wanted. And he knew it.
He rocked again, sending spindles of fireworks in my blood. The smell of our desire laced the room, a seductive mix of wrongness andright.
My nipples pebbled as he drove into me again; my breasts throbbed, heavier than they’d ever been.
This was what I’d wanted, what I’d fought for. Every time we’d duelled, I’d wanted to possess him, to climb on top of him, and impale myself on his aristocratic cock.
“Fuck,” Jethro groaned, driving hard, rocking his hips to an uneven rhythm.
His back was granite beneath his t-shirt, his skin a rippling volcano of heat.
I gasped, flexing around him as he thrust once, twice.
“More. Please, more.”
Somehow this had turned from war to intimacy. We’d both stepped over the line, and I had no clue how to go back.
His gaze was turbulent as he drove again. I knew he struggled with what I did—sensed he was just as ruined and destroyed as me. We’d been fighting against each other, but ultimately, we’d won and lost.
Eye-to-eye, skin-to-skin, there was no room for bullshit or lies.
