He groaned, and with a deliberate, pent-up thrust, he filled her.
When she cried out, he stilled, forehead pressed to hers, breathing her in.
“Regarde-moi,” he urged softly. “Look at me.”
Her gaze was pained, frustrated.
Trusting.
“You. Are. Mine,” he ground out.
In answer, she lifted her hips, urging him deeper. That was all it took. And thus he began to move—long, deliberate strokes.
Each thrust drew a whimper, each retreat a gasp, until she was clinging to him, legs tight about his hips.
“Mon amour… mon trésor…” He kissed her lips, her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Her body clenched, rippling around him.
But even as the tremors coursed through her, he did not relent.
He slowed his thrusts, deepening them, coaxing rather than claiming, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Encore, ma princesse,” he murmured, a command but also devotion. “One more. Let me take you higher still.”
She shook her head faintly. “I cannot… I am undone?—”
“You can,” he whispered, brushing his mouth against hers. “Look at me. You are… magic…Ambrosia.”
He buried himself to the hilt, wringing a fresh sound from her throat—high and helpless. His thumb found her clit, stroking in time with the rhythm of his body, and her cries grew sharper still.
Her nails raked down his back, stinging, and mon Dieu, the pain only drove him wilder.
Strong hips met his, lifting off the table, and when her inner muscles clenched tighter, she dragged him deeper.
His thrusts raged, driven by a force beyond his control, each one tearing a groan from his chest. A violent ache building, coiling at the base of his spine.
“Mon Dieu… princesse…” The words broke from him in a hoarse rasp.
Sweat trickled down his back, his muscles burning, but he didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
When he could endure it no longer, Dash buried his face in her neck, teeth grazing her skin.
Then, clutching her hips, he spilled into her.
And still she convulsed around him, milking him, joining. Sharing every last shudder.
And through it all, he held her tight, as though he could sink even deeper, as though he might fuse them into one flesh.
But could he?
By the time the final wave ebbed, he braced his trembling arms on either side of her.
“I meant it,” he whispered, still buried deep. “Forever.”
She didn’t answer.
Brushing a kiss over her damp brow, then her swollen mouth, he eased her gently back to rest on the table he had built with his own hands. The loss of her heat was nearly unbearable.
