He worked me with patient fingers, building sensation until I was shaking, gasping, clutching at his shoulders.
"I don't—I can't—"
"Yes, you can. Let go, Princesse. I've got you."
The orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over me so hard I cried out. Etienne held me through it, his hand never stopping, drawing out every last tremor.
When I came back to myself, I was boneless, slumped against him.
"Okay?" he asked, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"More than okay."
"Good. Because we're not done yet."
He stood up and pushed down his gray sweatpants until they were on the floor and he was stroking his dick with his large palm.
Fuck. It was big, bigger than my dildo.
He laid me back on the bed, settling between my thighs. His hands rested on the nest either side of my head. But it was between my legs that I felt him, hard and ready.
My breath hitched.
"This might hurt," he said gently. "But only for a moment. Tell me if it's too much."
"I’ve used a dildo before."
He grinned. “You have no idea, Presley. I like that about you. Luckily your slick will make your first time easier.”
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving my body time to adjust. There was pressure, a surprising sharp sting that made me tense.
"Breathe," he murmured. "Just breathe, Princesse."
I did, and the pain faded, replaced by fullness, by the overwhelming sensation of being connected to him in a way I'd never been connected to anyone.
"Okay?" he asked, his forehead pressed to mine.
"Yes."
He moved, slow and steady, watching my face for every reaction. His hand found mine, lacing our fingers together.
"You're doing so well," he whispered. "So perfect."
He began to move deeper, each slow thrust dragging against places inside me that lit up like fireworks. I’d never felt anything like this. I’d never felt so full, so stretched, so perfectly claimed.
An embarrassingly loud moan tore out of me.
Etienne’s eyes darkened, pupils blown wide. “That’s it, Omega,” he rasped. “Feel your Alpha. Comeon his cock.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist without thinking, pulling him closer, deeper. My heels dug into the small of his back as if I could fuse us together.
Every roll of his hips sent sparks racing up my spine, and the obscene, slick sounds of our bodies filled the room.
“You’re perfect,” he growled against my lips, voice rougher now, the polished control fraying. “So fucking perfect.”
Then, in one smooth motion, he pulled out and flipped me onto my hands and knees. I gasped at the sudden emptiness, but before I could protest he was behind me, hands gripping my hips, dragging me back onto him in one hard thrust.
I cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets.
