He pushes in slow, inch by inch, stretching me open. It's a tight fit, the burn of it mixing with the lingering sensitivity from my orgasm, making me gasp. His eyes stay on mine, watching every reaction, his jaw clenched with restraint.
"So tight," he mutters, possessive growl in his tone as he bottoms out, filling me completely.
He pauses there, buried deep, letting me adjust.
“You good?”
I nod, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
That's his cue. He starts to move, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in, deep and measured. His hips are rolling to hit that spot inside me that makes me whimper.
The bed creaks under us, his body covering mine in a way that's intimate, enveloping, like he's shielding me from the world.
His pace builds gradually, thrusts growing harder, more insistent, but never frantic. Sweat beads on his skin, dripping onto my collarbone as he fucks me, one hand gripping my thigh to angle me just right.
"Mine," he says again, lips brushing my ear, breath ragged. "This pussy is mine. You feel that?"
I do. Every inch of him claiming me, claiming my first time, the slick slide of his cock in and out, the way my walls grip him like they never want to let go. Pleasure builds again, sharper this time, coiling low as he grinds against my clit with each thrust.
He shifts, hooking my legs over his shoulders to go deeper. His mouth latches onto one nipple, sucking hard while he pounds into me, the dual sensations pushing me toward the brink.
"Come for me, Carly," he demands, voice breaking on a groan. "Milk my cock."
I shatter around him, pussy spasming, clenching tight as ecstasy rips through me.
He follows seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills inside me, hot cum flooding my core. He buries his face in my neck, growling my name, his body shuddering with the force of it.
We stay like that, locked together, breaths mingling as the aftershocks fade. His arms wrap around me, possessive and protective, holding me close like he'll never let go.
Chapter 7
Doc
Iwakeupbeforeshe does.
We slept longer than I meant to. The light filtering through the curtains isn’t gray anymore. It’s thick, golden. Afternoon.
She’s curled against my side. Bare skin warm against mine. Her hand resting over my ribs like she fell asleep making sure I was real.
My chest tightens.
She looks peaceful.
No tension in her shoulders. No crease between her brows. The tape around her wrists is still in place from last night, edges lifting slightly. Faint purple shadows bloom beneath it.
There are other marks too. Thin scratches along her calves from branches, bruises at her shins, small cuts at her feet from running barefoot through God knows what.
And then the marks I left.
I brush my thumb gently over one of the fading prints at her hip.
Too hard.
I should’ve been gentler.
I should’ve—
“You’re doing it.”
