I sat up, my hand tentative as I wrapped my fingers around him. He was hot and smooth over steel-hardness, and he hissed in pleasure. Emboldened, I stroked him, feeling him twitch in my grip. Curiosity won out, and I leaned forward, licking the tip, tasting the salty bead there.
“Jesus, Sydney,” he growled, his hand gentle in my hair. “That feels incredible.”
I took him into my mouth, exploring carefully, my tongue learning as I went. His deep, guttural sounds spurred me on, heat pooling again as I moved.
But his hips jerked, and he eased me back. “Enough, baby. I’m not going to last much longer. Lie down.”
I shook my head, a spark of defiance igniting. “No. I want to be on top.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It might hurt more that way. You sure?”
“I can handle it,” I said, surprised by the certainty in my voice.
He settled back against the pillows, his body taut beneath me. I straddled him, guiding the tip to where I needed him. Slowly, I lowered myself, feeling the stretch, the sharp pinch that made me pause.
“Breathe,” he said, his hands steady on my hips. “Go slow. And touch yourself—it’ll help.”
Touch myself?—
The idea made my pulse spike, but his heated gaze anchored me.
“Show me how?” I asked.
He guided my hand between my legs, pressing my fingers where I needed them most. “Like this. Slow circles. Feel how good it is.”
I gasped as pleasure flared, the pain blending with it as I lowered myself inch by inch. He filled me completely, stretching me in a way that felt overwhelming and right all at once.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice strained. “You’re doing so good. Keep touching yourself.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on sensation. The burn faded, turning into a deep, delicious fullness.
When I finally took him all the way, I moaned. My fingers moved faster, building that familiar tension, my other hand cupping my breast, experimenting.
“Fuck,” Kross groaned, his hands gripping my thighs. “You look so good like that. Take what you want.”
Knowing he liked it pushed me higher. I rocked my hips, grinding down, the friction exquisite. Pleasure coiled tight, my breaths coming in short pants.
“Oh god, Kross,” I whimpered.
“Come for me again,” he urged, meeting my movements. “I want to feel you.”
The second orgasm hit harder, my body shaking as pleasure tore through me. I cried out, my inner muscles clenching around him as wave after wave crashed over me.
He followed moments later, his hands digging into my hips as he thrust once more, a broken sound torn from his throat as he spilled inside me.
I collapsed onto his chest, both of us breathing hard. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.
“I’m glad I came to Wildwood Valley,” I whispered. “Glad I took the risk.”
He tightened his hold. “I’m glad too. More than glad.”
I drifted toward sleep in his arms, warm and safe, thinking this was what home was supposed to feel like.
5
KROSS
Iwoke up before dawn, which wasn’t unusual.
