They were locked on me.
“Okay?” he asked.
“So good,” I breathed. “Please fucking move.”
And he did.
Slow at first, deep and deliberate, like he was testing how far he could go before I broke apart again. Each thrust dragged a sound out of me I couldn’t control, my body answering him before my thoughts caught up.
He filled me completely. Every inch. I could feel him everywhere. Stretching me, grounding me, forcing me to stay present in my skin instead of floating off into panic or memory.
My legs locked tighter around his hips.
“Fuck,” he growled as he pulled almost all the way out and pushed back in again. “You feel incredible.”
I clawed at his back, nails scraping skin, needing proof he was real. That this was happening. That I wasn’t alone.
“Harder,” I said, breathless. “Please.”
That did it.
His control finally snapped.
He drove into me faster, harder, the bed creaking beneath us as his rhythm turned rough and urgent. Each thrust knocked the air out of my lungs, pleasure building fast and sharp, spiraling tight in my belly.
I met him instinctively, hips lifting to take him deeper, chasing the friction that made my toes curl and my vision blur. My body remembered this. Remembered how to want, how to feel, how toneed.
His hand slid down between us, fingers finding me again, thumb circling my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp.
“Oh God,” I cried. “Wrecker?—”
“Come for me,” he growled. “Let go.”
I shattered.
The orgasm tore through me, violent and overwhelming, my body bowing beneath him as I screamed his name. Every muscle locked tight around his cock, pulsing, dragging him deeper as wave after wave crashed through me.
That pushed him over the edge.
He slammed into me one last time, a broken sound ripping out of his chest as he came hard, burying himself to the hilt. I felt every jerk, every pulse, his grip on me tightening like he was afraid to let go.
For a moment, there was nothing but breath and heat and the thud of our hearts.
I stayed very still, letting the moment settle.
Not because I was afraid it would break. But because I wanted to remember it exactly as it was. The way my body felt loose instead of braced. The way my thoughts weren’t racing ahead, scanning for danger.
This wasn’t relief.
It was grounding.
I’d spent days afraid that wanting something, someone, meant I was weak. That desire was just another way to lose control.
But this didn’t feel like losing anything.
It felt like claiming it.
Then he collapsed forward, catching himself on his forearms so he didn’t crush me, his face pressed into my neck. His breathing was rough, uneven, like he’d just run a mile.
