“Are you sure?” I ask because this is the moment he’s built entire years around, and I need to know that this is enough. That it’s everything he’d imagined.That he’s ready.
“You’re mine?”
“Only yours.”
“Then I’m sure.”
He leans in, his forehead pressing against mine, and I feel the weight of his cock at my entrance.
We don’t talk about protection because the thought of anything separating us feels wrong. I want him bare, raw, andfilling me so deep I forget there was ever a before this. If this is happening, I need all of him.
He reaches down, and I feel the tremor run through him, his muscles tight and shaking as he wraps his hand around himself.
“Hey,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth back to mine. “Breathe, I’ve got you.”
His breath punches out against my lips like I just let the air back into his lungs, and the second I kiss him again, I feel the tension drain from his body as he settles into us.
When he nudges forward, the head of his cock presses against my entrance. We both go still, and his eyes squeeze shut like he needs a second to catch his breath.
“Look at me, Phoenix.” I reach up and grip his jaw, forcing his eyes open. “I want you to remember every second of this. I want you to see me seeing you. I need you to feel me feeling you.”
Those silver eyes sparkle like stars, his lips parted as pleasure ripples through him every time he sinks another inch into me.
“You feel… You feel… fuck.”
He shakes his head, unable to find words, and his lips lower to mine. He kisses me and kisses me while he pulls back and starts to move, groaning through every thrust.
“Oh god, Phoenix. Keep going, baby.”
“Never stop doing that,” he growls against my lips, his cock driving into me harder now, faster, hitting the spot inside me he found so easily with his fingers. “Never stop calling me baby.”
He picks up speed, wrapping an arm around my body to lift me slightly, and angling me so he can get deeper.
“I’m—oh god, you feel so fucking good. You’re gonna make me come, baby.”
I chant his name, over and over, as wave after wave of pleasurecrashes through me in an orgasm so intense it leaves me shaking beneath him.
Phoenix drives into me one final time before he stills, slamming his mouth to mine as he pulses inside me.
We’re both gasping for air, our faces inches apart, his forehead damp with sweat. Our eyes lock, and in that split second, we both feel that soul-deep shift that says you can’t unfuck someone who just rewired your entire existence.
My time of wondering whether I can do this or not is over, because the thought of him ever directing all this love, all this need and desire, at anyone other than me is something I could never survive.
And for a moment, I get lost in what could’ve been.
What if I’d said no?
What if he’d given all of this to someone else?
The thought alone is poison in my veins.
Because the idea of him touching someone else the way he just touched me—or loving someone with this kind of violent, all-consuming devotion—destroys me.
There’s no surviving that alternate universe. And that’s when it hits me that I’m not the balance to his madness. I’m not the light to his dark or the calm to his storm, or any of those lies people tell themselves about toxic love.
I’m his mirror image.
I'm exactly what he is.
