And his cock?—
Stars.
Thick. Veined. Slick at the tip. A deep red that matches his skin, ridged just enough to make my thighs press together instinctively.
“You sure?” he asks again, but his voice is strained.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you inside me.”
He climbs over me, holds himself there for a heartbeat, his cock brushing against my slick entrance. I reach down, guide him, and the second he pushes in?—
I break.
He’s huge. Stretching me wide, slow, inch by inch. My breath leaves me in a rush, not from pain, but from the overwhelming feeling of being filled. He holds himself still, trembling with restraint.
“Fuck, Sable,” he groans. “You’re so tight. I—stars, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I gasp, hips rolling up. “I can take you.”
He starts to move.
Each thrust is slow, deliberate. His ridges drag over every nerve inside me, making me cry out, making me writhe beneath him. He moans my name like a prayer, his cock dragging deeper, harder, hitting places no one else ever could.
Our rhythm builds—wet, frantic, electric.
My nails rake his back. His teeth graze my shoulder. We’re a tangle of sweat and heat and everything I’ve never let myself want.
“Look at me,” he rasps, voice cracking.
I do.
His eyes burn into mine, and everything else fades.
“I’ve killed for less than what I feel for you,” he whispers.
My orgasm hits like a detonation—hot, sudden, shaking me apart. I cry out, loud and raw, pulsing around him.
Voltar follows with a roar, his cock twitching inside me as he spills, body shaking above mine. He collapses carefully, cradling me, breathing hard.
His heartbeat is thunder under my cheek.
And for once in my life, I feel like I’m right where I belong.
CHAPTER 12
VOLTAR
I’ve known war longer than I’ve known rest.
Pain is a language I speak fluently.
Violence comes to me like breath.
My nights have always been the same—hard, fast, functional. Bodies snared in lust, in survival. Moments that vanish like smoke the second they end. Never soft. Never slow. Never like this.
But now…
Now I’m wrapped in satin sheets and Sable’s legs, her body draped over mine like she belongs here. Like I do. Her cheek is pressed to my chest, breath rising and falling with mine. The warmth of her seeps into places I didn’t know were cold. And I’m not running. I’m not itching for the door. I’m here. Still.
