His hands move up my sides, over my ribs.
He pauses, forehead resting against mine, breath unsteady.
"You're mine, Hazel," he says, voice rough and absolute. "You always have been. Even if it's temporary. Even if it's just for now. I'll take whatever you give me."
Then his mouth is on mine again and he's right there, pressing against me, and I can feel how much he wants this. How much he's been holding back.
"Please," I whisper against his lips.
He enters me slowly. Inch by devastating inch. The stretch of it makes me cry out, makes my nails dig into his shoulders. He pauses, letting me adjust, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
"Okay?" he asks, voice strained.
"Yes. God, yes."
He pushes deeper, filling me completely, and we both groan. For a second he doesn't move, just stays buried inside me, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard.
Then he starts to move.
Slow at first. Rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that has me gasping. Each thrust deliberate and deep, like he's trying to memorize exactly how I feel around him.
His mouth finds my throat, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin there. One hand grips my hip, holding me in place while he moves. The other slides up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple in time with his thrusts.
"You feel so good," he breathes against my neck. "So fucking good."
I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and he groans, thrusting deeper. The new angle has him hitting something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
"There," I gasp. "Right there—"
He adjusts, hitting that spot with every thrust now, and I can't think anymore. Can only feel. The stretch of him inside me. The weight of his body. The heat building again, faster this time, sharper.
His rhythm changes. Faster. Harder. The bed frame creaks with every thrust and I don't care. All I care about is this. Him. Us.
My hands slide down his back, feeling his muscles flex under my palms. I dig my nails in and he hisses, hips snapping harder.
"Hazel," he groans. "Fuck, Hazel—"
I pull him down into a kiss, messy and desperate, and he responds by shifting his weight, one hand sliding between us to where we're joined. His thumb finds my clit and I break the kiss with a cry.
"That's it," he says against my mouth. "I want to feel you come around me."
The combination of his thumb circling, his cock driving deep, his voice in my ear—it's too much. The pressure builds to an unbearable peak and then I'm coming again, harder this time, my whole body clenching around him.
"Fuck," he groans, and his rhythm falters. "Hazel, I—"
"Don't stop," I gasp. "Please don't stop."
He doesn't. He keeps moving, keeps thrusting through my orgasm, prolonging it until I'm trembling and gasping beneath him. Then his whole body tenses, his grip on my hip tightening, and with one final deep thrust he comes, his groan muffled against my shoulder.
We stay like that for a long moment. Both of us breathing hard. Both of us trembling. His weight pressing me into the mattress, his face buried in my neck, his heart pounding against mine.
Finally he lifts his head, kisses me once more—slow and soft this time—and carefully pulls out. I feel the loss of him immediately.
He rolls to the side, pulling me with him, tucking me against his chest. One arm comes around my waist, possessive and sure. His other hand finds mine, threading our fingers together.
The world settles slowly.
We're tangled together, sheets twisted around our legs, his arm heavy across my stomach. My cheek rests against his chest,skin cooling. His heart is still working its way back to steady, the thud of it deep beneath my ear.
