I whimper into his mouth, winding arms around his thick neck to pull him closer. He growls, a feral vibration against my chest. One large hand cups the back of my head, holding me in place as he ravages me. Hungry, desperate, consuming.
He pulls back, forehead resting against mine. "Tell me to stop," he demands, voice a wrecked rasp. "Tell me now, Alex."
"Don't you dare stop," I pant. "Touch me. Please."
He makes a noise of surrender and victory. Straightening, eyes burn over my body. Methodical, heavy hands reach for my hem—the gray tank top of his that I've been drowning in. "Lift your arms," he growls. I obey, wincing as the movement pulls at my bruised ribs, but the pain is a ghost compared to the heat of hisgaze. He peels the thin fabric up and over my head, but his eyes snag on the lace of my bra.
With a low, possessive grunt, he reaches behind me, his massive hands unhooking the clasp before he strips the lace away and tosses it aside, finally leaving me bared to the firelight.
Naked except for panties, my body maps purple and yellow bruises.
I try to cover the dark mark on my ribcage, feeling exposed.
Tristan looks at me like a holy relic unearthed.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing a calloused thumb over the bruise. "So fucking resilient."
He presses his lips to the bruise, stubble grazing sensitive skin. He moves lower to the curve of my belly, hands spanning my waist. Thumbs dig in, testing the give of flesh. His hands nearly cover my entire torso.
"I’ll be careful with your leg," he promises, voice dropping an octave. "But I need to be inside you, Alexandria. I need to know you’re mine."
"I'm yours," I confess. In the wild, animals know their mates.
He hooks fingers into my waistband and drags the panties down. I lift my hips, and he helps, sliding fabric down my good leg, then navigating the splint. When he tosses the underwear, I am bare. He stands between my spread legs, chest heaving, erection straining violently against gray sweatpants.
"Tristan," I breathe.
He drops to his knees beside the bed. The mattress dips as he leans over, eyes locked on my core.
"You're wet," he observes, voice thick.
"You did that."
"I'm going to do a lot more."
He drops between my knees, his massive shoulders forcing my legs wide until my pussy is fully bared to him. When his mouth hits me, I scream. He’s not teasing; his broad, sandpapery tongue licks a heavy stripe from my bottom to my clit, drinking in the pussy juice I’ve been leaking for him. He growls, the vibration rattling my bones, and pins my good thigh down while he drinks me in, his chin getting drenched in my heat.
He hums against my flesh, sending lightning bolts up my spine. Sensory overload—heat of his mouth, scrape of stubble, immense weight anchoring me.
"Tristan, please," I cry, head thrashing. "I need?—"
"I know what you need," he mutters against my skin. He sucks hard on my clit. I scream, vision whitening.
He works me relentlessly. Knows exactly where to press. Worships me, treating my body like his only sustenance. My core fractures. Muscles seize tight, and I cry out his name. He drinks every drop of pleasure, refusing to stop until the last tremor fades and I lie limp against the sheets.
He stands immediately, eyes wild. He shoves sweatpants down, kicking them off his ankles. My breath catches. Magnificent. Terrifying. Thick, veined, and unmistakably large, standing at full attention.
"Tristan," I whisper. "Will it fit?"
He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself over me. Weight on his forearms, creating a canopy of muscle and heat.
"It’ll fit," he says, voice gritty. "You were made for this. For me."
He uses a heavy pillow to prop the splint further. I hiss at a phantom twinge, but morphine keeps agony distant.
He nudges the thick, weeping head of his cock against my entrance, dragging it through my juices until I’m drenched and begging. The stretch is immense, a brutal, beautiful invasion as he begins to sink into me. I gasp, my nails clawing into the iron muscle of his shoulders as he pushes harder, his heavy balls slapping against my thighs as he bottoms out, burying his entire length inside me.
I open wide, my walls straining to accommodate every veined, throbbing inch of him. The absolute fullness of him being seated deep in my pussy, stretching me until I’m nothing but a vessel for his weight, drowns the pain of my leg entirely. When he is buried to the root, his thick cock pulsing against my cervix, he stops. He anchors himself there, claiming my body with a primal, unyielding force that leaves me breathless. Forehead rests against mine. Connected in the storm's eye.
