Her first rise is slow, a testing drag that makes my vision blur. Her descent is quicker, a firm, wet slide that drives a sharp hiss from my lips. She sets a rhythm, rising and falling, each stroke building a fire that threatens to burn through my control.
But I don’t let her lead. My hands on her hips become anchors, then directors. When she rises too high, I pull her back down, hard, forcing her to take me deeper than she intended. When her rhythm becomes too steady, I shift her, angling her body so each downward stroke rubs me against a different, more sensitive part of her.
She moans, the sound breaking free from her clenched teeth. “Vaedros…”
“Say it,” I demand, thrusting up into her as she comes down, meeting her movement with my own, a brutal counterpoint that jars her body.
“I…” Her words fragment. Her movements become less coordinated, more desperate. She’s chasing her own pleasure now, riding me with a frantic, beautiful hunger.
I watch her face. See the conflict there, the anger, the defiance, melting into pure, rawneed. Her breasts bounce with her motions. Sweat gleams on her skin. Her inner muscles clutch around me, tightening, pulling.
“You want more,” I say to her, my voice strained, my own pleasure coiling tight in my gut.
She nods, frantic.
“Beg.”
She shakes her head, a last defiance.
I slam her down onto me, holding her there, grinding myself deep into her core. The sensation is overwhelming. For both of us. Her eyes fly wide. A broken cry escapes her.
“Please,” she gasps, the word torn from her. “Please, more…harder.”
Victory, hot and dark, floods me. “Like this?” I ask, pulling her up and then driving her down again, my own hips bucking to meet her, the impact jarring, perfect.
“Yes!Gods, yes!” she cries, her hands scrambling on my chest, nails scratching skin.
The control shifts. It’s no longer about restraining her. It’s aboutdrivingher. Using her body to bring us both to the edge. I set a punishing rhythm, my hands guiding her, my body meeting hers, the slap of skin and the wet, slick sounds of our joining filling the cave. Her moans become a continuous, ragged song. Her head rolls back. Her body convulses around me, tightening,pulling.
I feel my own climax building, a storm gathering at the base of my spine. “You’re going to take it,” I growl, my voice raw. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
“Give it!” she screams, her body shuddering, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around my cock.
The command unleashes me. I pull her down one last, brutal time, holding her impaled as I thrust up into her, deep, final.The release crashes over me, a scalding flood that empties into her, wave after wave. At the same moment, her body seizes, a sharp, silent tension before she collapses into a violent, shaking orgasm. Her cry is muffled against my chest as she falls forward, her skin slick with sweat, her breathing shattered.
We stay like that, joined, spent, the air thick with the scent of us. Her weight is heavy on me, welcome. My hands loosen on her hips, sliding up to cradle her back.
Her breath is hot against my neck. “Still… a problem?” she murmurs, the words slurred with exhaustion and satisfaction.
I let a slow, rough laugh escape my chest. “The best kind.”
She hums softly at that, something close to satisfaction. The fire cracks somewhere next to her, the sound distant compared to the steady warmth of her body, the quiet press of her against me grounding everything else into something slower.
This is… unfamiliar. Not the contact. The absence of conflict within it.
My hand remains at her back, steady, not forcing, not directing, just there, and I feel the slight shift as she relaxes into it, her head turning just enough that her breath brushes differently along my neck.
“You’re still thinking,” she murmurs.
“Always.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It isn’t.”
She shifts slightly, just enough to look at me properly now, her expression softer than it was before, but not unguarded. Never that.
“Liar,” she says quietly.
