I gave her more. I traced patterns with my tongue, circling her clit, dipping inside her, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan. She was so responsive, so uninhibited in her pleasure, that I nearly forgot my own need.
"I want to feel you come on my tongue," I said against her flesh. "Can you do that for me?"
"Yes—God, yes—"
I sealed my mouth over her clit and sucked. Her hips bucked off the bed, her cries echoing off the walls. I slid two fingers inside her, curling them to find the spot that would push her over the edge.
It only took a minute. She shattered with my name on her lips, her inner walls clenching around my fingers, her whole body shaking with the force of her release. I worked her through it, gentling my touch as the waves subsided, until she was limp and panting beneath me.
"That was—" She struggled to catch her breath. "I've never—"
"We're just getting started."
I crawled up her body, settling between her thighs. My cock was painfully hard, aching for her, but I held myself back. This wasn't about me. This was about showing her, with my body, everything I couldn't put into words.
I positioned myself at her entrance and pushed in slowly—inch by inch, giving her time to adjust. She was still tight fromher orgasm, her walls gripping me like a fist. The sensation was almost too much. I had to stop, buried to the hilt, and breathe through the urge to move.
"You feel incredible," I groaned. "So tight. So wet. So perfect."
"Move." She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. "Please, Vasily. I need you to move."
I moved.
Not fast, not rough. Slow, deep strokes that filled her completely, that let her feel every inch of me. I braced myself on my forearms, caging her body with mine, and watched her face as I made love to her.
Because that's what this was. Not fucking, not claiming. Making love. To the woman carrying my child. The woman who'd somehow become everything.
"Open your eyes," I commanded softly. "Look at me."
Her lashes fluttered open. Her eyes were dark, dazed, full of pleasure and something deeper. Something that made my chest ache.
"I see you," I said, echoing her words from weeks ago. "All of you. The fear and the strength and the fire. I see everything you try to hide."
"Vasily—"
"And I want it all." I thrust deeper, harder, punctuating each word. "Every part of you. Every day, for the rest of our lives."
She made a sound that was half sob, half moan. Her nails raked down my back, leaving trails of fire. I felt her starting totighten around me again, felt the telltale flutter of approaching release.
"Come with me," she gasped. "I want to feel you come inside me."
The words snapped whatever control I had left. I drove into her harder, faster, chasing the peak we were both climbing toward. Her cries grew louder, more desperate. My own release built at the base of my spine, coiling tighter with every thrust.
"Now," I groaned. "Come for me now."
She fell apart. Her back arched, her walls clamped down around me, and she screamed my name loud enough to wake the entire island. The sensation dragged me over the edge with her. I buried myself to the hilt and came harder than I ever had in my life, pulsing inside her, filling her with everything I had.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. We stayed tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in syncopation. I was still inside her, unwilling to break the connection, to lose this closeness.
"That was different," she said finally, her voice soft with wonder. "From the first time."
"Yes."
"Why?"
I pulled back enough to meet her eyes, brushing sweat-damp hair from her face. "Because this time, I wasn't just taking something. I was giving something too."
"Giving what?"
