He didn’t talk. Didn’t need to. He just pressed me back against the sheets, braced over me, and kissed me like he’d never get enough. I opened for him, greedy, and let him taste whatever he wanted. His tongue was hot, a little rough, and when he bit mylower lip, I whimpered. I should’ve been embarrassed, but he just groaned, kissing me deeper.
His hands slid down, peeling my sweats away, and I let him. I wanted him to see me, really see me, even if I was a mess. When he stripped me bare, he just pressed his palm to my ribs, thumb stroking slow circles, like he was promising not to break me.
My cock was already hard, aching, but he didn’t touch it. Not yet. He just kept kissing me, mouth on my neck, my jaw, my shoulder. He made a noise when he found the bruises, but it wasn’t pity. It was more like anger, but not at me. I wanted to ask, but then he sucked another mark onto my throat, and my thoughts scattered.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said against my skin.
“It’s not.” I sounded desperate even to my own ears.
He huffed a rough laugh. “Good.”
He slid down, kissing his way over every rib, every scar. When he took my cock in his hand, I nearly arched off the bed. His grip was careful, not too tight, but he stroked me slowly, like he was savoring it. I bit my knuckles to keep from making noise, but he just pulled my hand away and laced our fingers together, pinning it above my head.
He stroked me, never rushing, and I felt like I was going to come apart at the seams. His free hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently, and then his mouth followed, tongue teasing the head before he sucked me in.
I nearly lost it. I grabbed his shoulder, nails biting, but he just groaned, taking me deeper. He was relentless. Every time I thought I was about to come, he slowed down, made me wait. I was shaking so badly I thought I’d explode.
“Please,” I begged. I didn’t even care how pathetic I sounded.
He pulled off, stroking me faster now, and I lost it, my hips bucking up into his fist, the world narrowing to white heat and Cole’s voice in my ear, low and reverent, telling me he had me, that I was safe, that nothing could hurt me here. It wasn’t just words. I believed him. I came so hard I thought my body would snap in half, and he just kept holding me, steadying me, swallowing every sound I made like it was something precious.
I was shaking.I couldn’t even move. He kissed me like he was trying to anchor me back to the bed. I clung to him, desperate, nails biting his shoulders. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he held me tighter, like he needed to keep me from slipping away entirely.
He slid up my body, the heat of him almost burning, and kissed my jaw, the corner of my mouth, my eyelids as they fluttered. I couldn’t see straight. Couldn’t think. All I wanted was him, right here, right now, and I didn’t care if it made me needy or weak or fucking pathetic. I wanted him to take whatever he needed from me.
“Please,” I whispered, and I didn’t even know what I was asking for.
He groaned, shuddering, and pressed his forehead to mine. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I meant it. I’d never been more sure of anything.
He slicked his fingers, hands trembling a little, and pressed them to me, gentle, careful, circling until I relaxed for him. He took his time. He didn’t rush. Every touch was a question, and I answered yes, yes, yes, until he slid a finger in and I gasped, but it wasn’t from pain. Not really. Not with him. He worked me open slowly, and when I pushed back against his hand, he just kissed me again, swallowing every noise.
He paused, and for a second, I thought he’d change his mind, but he just breathed. Letting me feel the heat of him pressed against my skin. “Tell me if you need to stop,” he murmured.
I nodded, too strung out to trust my voice.
I could barely take a breath. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to go slow, that I wasn’t going to break, but my voice was gone, lost in the way his hands moved over my skin. He touched me like I was something precious. I’d never been precious to anyone. Not ever.
He dragged a pillow under my ass, slid on the condom, then braced over me. All heat and muscle, his cock sliding in deeper, and the stretch was good, so good, I didn’t even care about the ache in my ribs. I just wanted him closer. I hooked my legs around his waist, and he groaned, biting down on my shoulder.
“Fuck, Phoenix,” he whispered. “You feel unreal. Like I’m going to lose it if I don’t hold on.”
He rocked into me, slow at first, every thrust careful and measured, like he was afraid I’d break. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that he could let go, but every time I tried to speak it just came out as a gasp or a whimper. He bracketed my face in his hands, kissing me like I was the last thing that mattered to him.
I arched up, desperate for more, and he gave it to me. Harder, deeper, each thrust careful but so intense I thought I’d unravel. His hand found my cock again, stroking in time, and I couldn’t help it—I moaned loudly, shameless, because it was just us here. No one else. No one to judge or threaten or take it away.
He pressed his forehead to mine, sweat slick between us, and I couldn’t stop touching him. Shoulders, jaw, the back of his neck. If he needed an anchor, I’d be it. I’d let him fuck me until I forgot my own name, and still I’d want more.
His rhythm faltered, that perfect control slipping, and I realized he was trembling. Shaking, like maybe he was scared to let go. Like if he did, something worse would happen. I knew what that felt like. I’d lived it every day. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that he could let go, but all I could do was hang on and hope he knew.
He slammed in, once, twice, and I felt him shudder, felt the way he squeezed my hand, bruising tight. “I’ve got you,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a question or a warning. It was a promise.
I came again, so hard I saw white. My whole body locked up, and I thought I might black out, but he held me, kept me grounded, fucked me through every shudder. Then he came, sharp and hot, his cock pulsing inside me, and for a moment the only thing that existed was the sound of our breathing, the way he collapsed on top of me, still careful not to crush me even when he was shaking.
He lay there, head buried in my neck, breathing like he’d just survived something. Maybe he had.
I stroked his back slowly. He was so much bigger than me, but right now he felt breakable. “You okay?” I whispered.
