The stretch stole my breath anyway.
I held onto him, nails biting into his back. He went slow even though restraint looked like it was killing him. Inch by inch, he filled me. The soreness flared, then melted under the heat of him, under the way he kissed my mouth, my cheek, the corner of my jaw.
When his hips met mine, I was shaking.
Vadim stayed still.
I looked up at him. “You’re allowed to move.”
“Give me a moment unless you want this over with embarrassing speed.”
A smile tugged at my mouth.
His eyes narrowed. “Do not look so proud.”
“I’m very proud.”
“You should be.”
The humor burned away as he drew back and thrust in again.
I gasped.
The rhythm started slow. Deep. Careful enough to let me adjust and hard enough to make every thought scatter. He held himself above me, one forearm braced beside my head, the other hand gripping my hip. I felt the power in him. I felt him holding back.
I dug my heels into him. “More.”
His eyes locked on mine.
“Say it clearly.”
“I want more.”
His hips snapped into mine.
The sound that came out of me wasn’t quiet.
“There,” he said, voice rough. “That is clear.”
He fucked me harder.
Not careless. Never that. But deeper, heavier, the bed moving beneath us, his breath at my ear, my muscles giving around him with each stroke. Pleasure sparked through the tenderness. The stretch of him rubbed something inside me that made me grab at his back, his shoulder, the sheets.
“You feel what you do to me?” he said. “Do you feel how badly I want to fill you?”
My nails dragged down his back.
“Yes.”
“I will put my child in you one day, Nadia. Not because a room named a price. Not because a contract said a thing about your body. Because you are my wife and I want a family that begins with your yes.”
My throat closed.
He slowed enough to look at me.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No.” My voice shook. “Don’t stop saying it like that.”
