I hook my hand behind her knee and flip her again, this time with a little less gentleness and a little more urgency. She gasps, breathless with laughter, her red hair fanning over the pillow like flame. Her green eyes are dark with heat.
“I want to see your face,” she says.
“You’ll feel everything,” I promise.
And then I’m there, cock brushing against her soaked pussy, and fuck—she’s so wet for me, slick and ready, her thighs trembling where they wrap around my waist. I push in slow, letting her feel every inch of me. Her mouth falls open, fingers digging into my arms.
“Voltar,” she moans, high and breathless.
“I’ve got you,” I pant. “Stars, Sable, you’re so tight. You take me like you were built for it.”
She whimpers, legs locking tighter around me, and I start to move.
Slow, at first. Letting her feel the stretch, the friction, the way my cock slides in and out of her soaked heat. Her pussy grips me like she never wants to let go, and I can feel every twitch, every pulse, like her body is talking back.
“You’re so deep,” she gasps. “So fucking deep—don’t stop.”
“I couldn’t if I tried,” I growl, and kiss her hard.
She arches beneath me, meeting every thrust with a cry of pleasure. I watch her—every gasp, every shiver, every desperate clutch of my name.
Her nails rake my back. Her breath stutters. Her voice breaks.
“More,” she begs. “Harder.”
I give it to her.
I fuck her like I’ve never done it before—like this is the first time it’s ever meant something. Our rhythm is raw and filthy, sweat-slick and primal, but there’s something more under it—connection, tether, a damnknowing. She wraps around me like she’s anchoring me to the world.
And I let her.
Her climax hits with a sound I’ll never forget. A sob, a gasp, my name—“Voltar”—like it’s carved out of her soul.
I follow with a roar, my body jerking as I spill inside her, my cock pulsing, filling her with everything I have.
We collapse together, panting, bodies trembling.
And in the quiet after, when her fingers trace circles on my chest and I feel her heart beat against mine, I know?—
I’ll never want anyone else like this.
Not in this lifetime.
Not ever.
Afterwards,Sable’s cheek is pressed against my chest like we were made to fit this way. The room is dark, except for the faint blue spill of citylight bleeding through the window blinds. It streaks across her bare shoulder, making her freckles look like stars scattered in constellations only I know the names of.
She sighs, soft and content. Her fingers are slow, idle, tracing the scar over my second heart in a pattern so delicate it makes my throat go tight. Her nails barely graze me, but it’s enough. Enough to make me ache in a way no blade or bullet ever managed.
“How’d you get this one?” she murmurs. Her voice is thick with sleep and warmth, like honey left too long in the sun.
I glance down. The scar’s an old one. Pale. Nearly invisible now, but still there, slashing across my chest like a reminder of my worst instincts and best stories.
“That?” I drawl, stretching one arm behind my head. “Bar bet. Hover bike. Shark tank. Zero common sense.”
She lifts her head slowly and blinks up at me. “You’re full of it.”
I give her a lazy grin. “Dead serious.”
