He lowers his forehead to mine. Closes his eyes. I feel his breath shudder against my lips as he tries to compose himself.
"I'm going to make this so good for you."
It's a promise that I feel binds us closer and I believe him with every fiber of my being.
He eases forward. I feel my body yield, the last barrier giving way to his gentle pressure. The stretch intensifies, a sharp sting that makes me suck in a breath and dig my nails into his shoulders. But beneath the sting is something else. Something that feels like completion.
His eyes lock with mine and I can see the fire of his raw emotions blaze in the depths of gray.
I wrap my legs around him and dig my heels into him and push him the last inch inside me.
I gasp. He's inside me. Fully. Completely. The man I've fallen for, the man who bled for me, the man who destroyed his own brother to keep me safe. He's part of me now in a way no one has ever been.
"Tell me when I can move. I never want to do anything that will hurt you." His voice is strained with the effort of holding still. I can feel the tension vibrating through his muscles, the restraint it's costing him to wait for my permission.
My channel clenches around him. I feel stretched to the limit, my inner flesh struggling to accept his width and length. As true as that is, my senses moan with the need to feel him move. To feel him stretch me until the burning pain is nothing more than an inferno of pleasure.
"Move, Drake. I need to feel every hard inch of you inside me over and over again." My voice comes out strained but determined.
He pushes to his knees, and I watch his glorious muscles ripple with control as he pulls from my body and sinks into me. He’s gentle at first. But then his strokes become hard, claiming.
The whole time he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. I can read every thought he’s having because he’s showing me. He’s letting me into his soul as I’m letting him into mine.
The fullness shifts from discomfort to something warmer, something that pulses with possibility.
I roll my hips. The friction sends sparks shooting through my core. Drake falls over me, his weight a delicious pleasure to feel. He groans, a sound that vibrates through both of us, and his fingers tighten on my hips.
Drake's hands tighten around the round globes of my ass. He spreads them, allowing his fingers to find the little entrance of my rear. I'm slick with moisture spilling down my seam. He teases, strokes and presses just hard enough to breach the tight ring of muscle. A scream tears from my lips one minute and in the next I can’t find my breath.
Waves of sensations bombard me.
Drake buries himself deep. A harsh masculine sound rasps from his throat.
“Katriana, fuck. You’re so good. So good. Your pussy was made for me.”
His words are a hard, throaty whisper against my shoulder. Between each word he nips, licks and kisses his way over my shoulder and up the delicate length of my neck.
My lover is a talented man, because as he’s devouring me with his mouth and teasing my ass, he withdraws his cock from my pussy. I feel the emptiness immediately and I’m left aching.
“Drake,” I whimper.
“I know, little rose. I feel it too.”
He returns, filling me so completely I forget how to breathe.
This is what I was waiting for. Not just the physical act, but this. This intimacy. This trust. This feeling of being seen and wanted and cherished by someone who would burn the world to keep me safe.
"More." I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Please, Drake. I need more."
“More of this?” His grip on my ass tightens.
His pace builds, his thrusts lengthening, deepening. My body opens for him like it was made to fit him and only him. The wet slide of his thick length inside me creates a friction that makes my vision blur and my thoughts scatter.
I rake my nails down his back. “Drake,” I scream. I meet each thrust with a roll of my hips, my body moving with his in a rhythm that feels ancient and inevitable.
This is what all those romance novels tried to describe. This consuming fire. This desperate need. This feeling of losing yourself in another person and finding something better in the space between.
My walls begin to flutter around him. The pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter with every stroke. I'm climbing towardsomething massive, something that threatens to shatter me completely.
