Again. And again.
He fucks me like he means it—deep and thick and claiming. His hand slides under my back, arching me up to meet every thrust.
Every time he sinks into me, I swear I feel it in mysoul.
He reaches down and circles my clit with his thumb, and I nearly scream.
“Thor,” I pant. “I don’t want this to end. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he growls.
He grips my hips and pumps harder now, relentless, filthy, perfect. The sound of our bodies slapping together echoes through the truck. I dig my nails into his back and meet every thrust, desperate to get closer, to pull him deeper.
“You feel so fucking good,” he grits out. “So tight. So wet. You’re mine tonight, baby.”
“Yes,” I moan. “I’m yours. I’m yours.”
My orgasm builds fast, hot, wild—and when it hits, I swear I see stars.
My whole body clenches around him and I cry out, shaking beneath him.
He follows with a loud groan, thrusting deep one final time before he shudders, burying himself inside me as he comes.
And then we collapse, tangled together in the dark, still trembling.
Breathless. Ruined.
Changed.
We lie tangled in the dark, breath catching, skin slick, our bodies still humming from what just happened.
I don’t want to move. Not ever.
But my fingers itch.
I roll my head to the side, cheek pressing against his chest. His heart is pounding like a drum beneath my ear.
I smile. “Can I… feel your face?”
There’s a pause. The sound of his breath stills for a second.
“Please,” I whisper. “It’s pitch black in here now, anyway. I just want to know what youfeellike.”
After a long beat, he murmurs, “Okay.”
I reach up slowly, my fingertips brushing the sharp edge of his jawline. His stubble is coarse and hot beneath my touch.
He stays perfectly still as I map him—my hand sliding over the strong bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheekbones, the soft dip of his upper lip.
God, he feels like a man carved out of stone and fire.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, fingers now brushing the curls of his hair, damp from sweat.
He laughs, low in his chest. “You can’t even see me.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I settle against him again, my palm resting over his heart. It’s still racing, and so is mine.
