He's enormous. His cock juts out from his body, thick and long and already leaking precum from the swollen head. Green-gray like the rest of him, ridged along the underside, bigger than anything I've ever taken.
"We'll go slow." He reads the flash in my eyes—not fear, not anymore, just anticipation. "I'll work you open. I'll make sure you're ready. And if it's too much, we stop."
I reach for him, wrap my fingers around his shaft. He barely fits in my hand. He groans, hips jerking forward, more precum beading at the tip. "I've never wanted anything more."
"You're sure?"
"Knox." I stroke him, base to tip, and his eyes roll back. "Fuck me. Please."
He positions himself over me, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging me in warmth and muscle. The head of his cock notches against my entrance—hot and thick, stretching me before he's even pushed inside.
"Look at me."
I look up into his dark eyes and I see the war there—the man fighting the monster, the control battling the need. I see how much he wants this and how terrified he is of hurting me.
And I'm not afraid at all.
"I trust you," I whisper. "Now stop holding back."
