His fingers slide inside me.
Two, then three.
Stretching me. Preparing me. Making sure my body can accommodate him.
I'm gasping. Moving against his hand. So close to the edge already.
"That's it," he encourages. "Let yourself feel it. Let yourself want it. You're so beautiful like this, Eden. So perfect."
"Please," I beg. "Please, I'm ready, I need you inside me, need to feel you?—"
"Soon." He withdraws his fingers and positions himself at my entrance. "Look at me."
I meet his eyes.
"I love you," he says.
"I love you too."
"This is going to change everything."
"I know."
"We can't go back after this."
"I don't want to go back. I want to move forward. I want you."
He pushes inside slowly. Just the tip. Letting me adjust to the stretch.
It burns. It's more than his fingers. Bigger. Fuller. Almost too much.
But not quite.
"Breathe," he instructs. "Just breathe through it. Your body knows what to do."
I breathe. Force myself to relax. Let my body adjust to the intrusion.
He pushes deeper. Inch by careful inch. Watching my face. Reading every reaction.
"Okay?" he asks when he's halfway in.
"Yes. Keep going. Don't stop."
He pushes the rest of the way in one smooth motion. Fills me completely.
Seats himself so deep I can feel him everywhere.
I cry out. From the burn and the stretch and the overwhelming fullness.
"Shh," he soothes. "I know. I know it's a lot. Just breathe. Just let your body adjust."
He stays completely still.
Lets me get used to him.
Lets the burn fade to something else.
Something that feels almost good.
