His cock nudges against my entrance, and I shudder, my body clenching around nothing. The bond flares, golden and bright, and my wrist burns.
Our eyes lock.
And then he pushes inside in one slow, endless stroke.
I gasp as he fills me, stretches me, the sensation overwhelming. He’s so big, so thick, and I feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper, deeper, until he’s buried inside me, his ballssnug against my ass. My body clenches around him, and it’s overwhelmingly perfect. I whimper and cling to him, pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever felt rushing over me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Norah—you feel—Oh god, it’s so fucking good.”
The bond erupts, and golden light flares around us, pulsing in time with our hearts, our wrists burning in unison. It’s like the world narrows down to this—just the two of us, and the way he fills me so completely. I can feel him inside me, not just physically, but everywhere, like he’s woven into my bones, my blood, my soul.
He holds completely still, his forehead pressed to mine. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding, hands roving over his back. “Yes, please don’t stop.”
He lets out a pained sound. “I don’t think I could for anything.”
He starts to move, pulling almost all the way out, and then sliding back in, slow, so slow, like he’s savoring every second of this. His hips roll against mine, every stroke slow and deep. Like he’s making a promise with every inch.
“You’re mine, Norah.” His voice is gritty with emotion. “Not letting you go. You’re mine.”
The words hit me somewhere deep, somewhere raw, and I can’t breathe for the way they settle inside me. He kisses me, hot and deep, his tongue sliding against mine like he’s tasting the truth of what we are to each other. Like he’s sealing it between us. I clutch at him, my thighs trembling around his hips.
The bond wraps around us, settles over us like a golden blanket, glowing brighter with every thrust. It’s not just lust between us. It’s love. It doesn’t matter that it’s unspoken. I can feel it, shimmering through the bond.
Rowan loves me. And I love him.
His cock fills me so perfectly, stretching me, claiming me, and I whimper into his mouth as he kisses me and kisses me, as though we need to be as joined as possible.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Relief. Joy. Belonging. It’s intense and overwhelming.
Rowan pulls back just enough to see my face, his thumb brushing away the first tear that spills over. His expression softens, his gaze holding mine. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice ragged. “And I’m never letting you go. Never. Never.”
His hand slips between us and his fingers find my clit. The first touch sends a jolt of pleasure through me, making my back arch off the bed. He circles it with slow, perfect strokes, matching the rhythm of his hips. Every stroke inside me, every swirl of his fingers, builds the hot pressure coiling low in my belly higher, tighter.
“You feel that?” he growls, his warm breath feathering over my skin. “That’s us, sweetheart. That’s you and me.”
I nod, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The bond sparkles like tiny galaxies around us, and I can feel him—his need, his devotion, his fierce, unshakable claim on me, and mine on him.
His fingers work me faster, his cock driving deeper, and I’m so close, so fucking close. The tears keep coming, but they’re not sad. I’m crying because I feel like I’ve found my home.
The pressure inside me snaps.
I come with a broken cry, my body clenching around him so tightly it almost hurts. My body goes taut as pleasure crashes over me in consuming waves. Rowan groans, his hips stuttering against mine, and then he’s thrusting deeper, harder, his cock swelling inside me as he buries himself to the hilt.
His teeth graze my skin as he lets out a low, guttural sound. I feel him pulse inside me, filling me as he empties himself with a shuddering groan. Golden light explodes in a brief, blindingflash before softening into something warm and steady, like embers settling after a fire.
The skin on my wrist prickles hotly, and I lift it, watching as the glowing fades, but the ink doesn’t. It darkens, sinking deeper into my skin. The lines twist and settle, sharper now, permanent. The mark on Rowan’s wrist does the same, darkening and settling.
Rowan presses his forehead to mine, his breath ragged, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release. I can feel him inside me, still half-hard, cum starting to leak out, but I know he’s not ready to let go yet. Neither am I.
My fingers trace the new, darker mark on his wrist, and he shudders, letting out a quiet groan. His thumb brushes over mine, and the touch sends a spark through me. The bond is still there, but different. It’s both lighter and deeper, somehow. Less insistent, but no less consuming.
He kisses me, soft and slow, his cock twitching inside me.
His lips brush my cheeks, my forehead, my lips with tender, lingering kisses that make my skin tingle. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, and I’m warm and sated beneath him, our bodies still connected. But beneath the warmth, a sliver of doubt slithers in. What if he looks at me now and realizes he doesn’t want this after all?
I try to push the thought away, but it clings to me, unshakable. He trails his fingers down my throat, over my shoulder, his touch so gentle it makes my throat tighten. Then he lifts his head, his stormy eyes searching mine. The bond surges between us, and I know—he feels it. My doubt. My fear. I can just…tell.
