I stand up, my own need a screaming animal in my chest. I kick off my shoes and shed my slacks in seconds. My cock springs free, thick and purple-headed, weeping pre-cum. I see her eyes widen as she looks at me, the hazy afterglow of her orgasm replaced by a fresh wave of desire.
“You’re so big,” she whispers, her hand reaching out to touch the head of my shaft.
I hiss as her fingers wrap around me. “I want you to feel only me, Amara. Nothing outside this room, nothing waiting for us out there.”
I grab a condom from the bathroom drawer. Some habits survive even obsession. I roll it on with shaking hands. I don’t want any barriers between us, but I won’t risk her. Not in the middle of a war. Not ever without her choosing it.
I step between her legs again, the head of my cock probing her entrance. She’s so wet, sliding against me like silk. I pause, my forehead resting against hers.
“Look at me,” I say.
She opens her eyes. They’re dark, swimming with emotion. There’s no more sassy armor, no more forensic distance. Just her.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” I whisper, my forehead against hers.
I thrust.
I’m slow, deliberate, feeling every inch of her as I sink into her heat. She’s even tighter than I imagined. She takes all of me, her body drawing me deeper with every breath. She lets out a long, low groan, her legs locking around my waist, pulling me deeper.
“Oh god, Alessio.”
I bottom out, my balls slapping against her. I stay there for a moment, buried to the hilt, just breathing her in. The sensation is overwhelming. It’s not just the physical pleasure; it’s the sense of completion. For eleven years, I’ve been defined by what I lost. Right now, holding her, I remember I am still alive.
I start to move. Slow, heavy thrusts that grind my pelvis against hers. I want her to feel the weight of me. I want her to understand that this isn’t casual. Nothing about her has been casual from the second she opened my clinic door.
I grunt it with every downward stroke: “My woman. My life.”
She’s moaning now, a constant, melodic sound that fuels the fire in my blood. She moves with me, her hips meeting mine, her hands wandering over my back, her nails digging into my skin. I welcome the pain. It’s proof that this is real.
I pick up the pace, my thrusts becoming more frantic, more feral. I’m losing control. The vault is breaking wide open, everything I’ve kept buried spilling out into the way I’m taking her. I’m not a surgeon anymore. I’m not a protector. I’m just a man who needs this woman like he needs oxygen.
“Faster,” she whimpers. “Please, Alessio. Harder.”
I grab her hips, my fingers bruising her skin, and I hammer into her. The sound of our bodies colliding fills the room, awet, rhythmic slapping that drowns out the world. I can feel her clenching around me, her second climax building.
“Tell me,” I roar, my voice breaking. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“You,” she cries out, her eyes rolling back. “Right now, Alessio. I’m here.”
She hits her peak again, her internal muscles clamping down on my cock so hard I nearly come right then. I hold on, pushing through the blinding pleasure, giving her three more deep, soul-shattering thrusts before I let go.
I roar as I spill into the condom, my entire body convulsing. I bury my face in her shoulder, my teeth grazing her skin, as the world dissolves into white light and the thundering of my own heart.
I check the bandage on her arm before I let myself move her, and only then do we stay tangled together for a long moment. The steam has cleared, the air cooling against our sweat-slicked skin. I don’t want to move. I want to live in this moment forever.
Eventually, I pull back, though I keep my arms around her. I kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. She looks soft. Vulnerable. It’s a look I know she doesn’t show anyone else, and the knowledge of that is a victory greater than any I’ve won in this war.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice still thick.
“Yeah,” she breathes, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “I think… I think I might have to unpack a few more things.”
I chuckle, the sound low in my chest. “Good. I’ll make room for them.”
I help her down, my hands lingering on her skin. I lead her to the bed, the large, dark-wood frame that has felt like a tomb for so long. Tonight, it feels like a sanctuary. I pull the covers over us, tucking her against my side. Her head rests on my chest, her hand splayed over my heart.
After my life, the silence doesn’t feel lonely.
But the peace doesn’t last. It never does in this house.
