We used passion to defeat pain. Wielded need to combat despair.
It would either heal us or break us, but there was no stopping the tsunami we rode.
“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry,” he mumbled into my hair. His tears had stopped, but his voice remained shaky.
His hips never stopped thrusting, driving us higher.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Sorry for making life so hard for you.”
He groaned, rocking faster.
Our minds switched from words to releases. We gave ourselves over to pleasure. Somewhere deep inside me, I let go. I floated upward, acknowledging that fate stole me from a life I thought I wanted, but that was never my true destiny.
He was.
Something slotted into place—bigger than a puzzle piece, more poignant than scripture or knowing.
It was the accumulation of fighting for something and finally earning it.
It washome.
Jethro pulled back, his jaw locked. His eyes burned as he rocked headfirst into a devouring tempo. I couldn’t look away. His body inside my body. His soul inside my soul.
I couldn’t contain the magic we sparked. “I need to tell you—how I feel...what this means.”
He shook his head, his lips grazing mine. “I know. I feel it, too.”
Tears leaked from my eyes as his mouth sealed tight. The wet heat of him and the scorching power of his cock splintered me in two.
There was no break or reprieve. Jethro fucked me, made love to me, and consumed me with no thought to us being watched or catalogued. Long, deep, dominating strokes dragged echoing moans.
Arching my hips, I rubbed my clit on the base of his cock. “More,” I begged. “Harder.”
He obeyed.
I couldn’t breathe, straining for an orgasm that would shatter me.
“Faster, deeper.”
He grunted, following my every command.
I’d never lived through something so intense.
It broke me.
It fixed me.
It stole. It gifted.
Overwhelming.
Rewarding.
Destroying.
Renewing.
“I’m going to fill you. I need to fill you,” Jethro groaned.
