He pressed his mouth to her temple, voice rough and shaking.
“Breathe with me, love. I’ve got you. We’re in this together.”
Her breath shuddered out, quivering but steady. The sting melted into a deep, aching fullness, pulling another sound from her throat—this one wonder, not fear.
“That’s it,” he whispered, devotion breaking through the hunger.
“You’re taking me, Amerei. Storms, you’re perfect.”
“Viktor—it feels… so good—” she gasped, shock and wonder tangling in her voice.
He held there, straining against every instinct to drive deeper. His brow pressed to hers, both of them trembling in the raw, unbearable beauty of being joined for the first time.
Only when she softened—body yielding, eyes locking on his with fierce trust—did he move.
She clutched at his shoulders, nails scoring his skin as his control broke and he began to thrust, every motion desperate prayer and worship entwined.
Her leg slid around his waist, dragging him deeper, her breath breaking into a cry.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, voice urgent, trembling. “Please—don’t stop.”
His hips drove harder, reverence collapsing into need, every stroke a vow turned to fire. He couldn’t breathe for the way she clung to him, body claiming every part of him.
“Viktor,” she gasped, her back arching beneath his hands. “I need you—don’t stop—”
“I won’t,” he rasped, breath uneven.
His forehead pressed to hers, his lips shuddering against her mouth.
“Storm take me, Ami—you own me. You’ve always owned me.”
Her cry fractured into a whimper. His thrusts deepened, driving her higher, until her whole body tightened around him.
“Viktor—Viktor—” she sobbed, voice breaking. “It feels so—”
“Let go,” he whispered, mouth at her throat. “I’ve got you, Ami. I’ll give you everything—every breath, every bit of me—until you never forget whose you are.”
“Viktor—it’s—so good—”
“That’s it,” he groaned, raw, undone. “You’re mine, Amerei—mine.”
Pleasure surged—fiercer, higher than she’d ever dreamed it could be. Her cry rose, shattering on his name.
“Yes,” he gasped, shaking, each thrust harder, hungrier.
“Dask, Amerei—storm take me—yes.”
“Viktor—”
Her head fell back, golden hair spilling across the pillow as release tore through her, his name breaking from her lips in a sound that shattered him.
A guttural cry broke from his chest as his control gave way, thrusts rough and desperate, worship and ruin entangled. He poured everything into her—every vow, every breath—until her body pulled him over the edge with her.
They collapsed into each other—wrecked, breathless, devouring air as if the world itself had ended.
For a long, shivering heartbeat neither moved, their skin still slick, their souls still trembling where they met. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her chest, and heclutched her back as though she might vanish if he loosened his grip.
“I didn’t know,” she panted.
