His penis is large and long. The sight of it, thick and flushed and rigid, sends a spike of nervousness through me even as a rush of heat blooms anew between my legs.
He returns to the bed and settles over me, bracing on his forearms so his weight doesn’t crush me. His skin is hot against mine everywhere we touch—his chest, his thighs, the hard length of him pressed against my hip.
“If it hurts,” he says, reaching between us, positioning himself, “you tell me and I stop.”
I nod.
He pushes forward. There is pressure, then a stretch that steals my breath, then a pinch—sharp, tearing, quick. I brace for the agony Housemother promised.
It does not arrive. There is discomfort, a fullness that borders on too much, but beneath it, that same gathering warmth. My body adjusts around him, accommodating the intrusion.
He pauses, fully inside me, his forehead pressed to mine. His arms tremble against me.
“Okay?” His voice is wrecked.
“Yes.”
He moves. A slow withdrawal, then a careful thrust, and the sensation ricochets through me. My hands fly to his shoulders. My fingers dig into the muscle there.
“God, you feel incredible.” His mouth is at my ear, his breath ragged. “So tight around me. So fucking perfect. You were made for me, Prudence.”
His language is crude and foreign and it sets me aflame. He moves again, and again, building a rhythm that my body rises to meet. My hips tilt without instruction—instinct, pure and primal. My legs wrap around his waist, drawing him deeper, and the angle shifts, and?—
“Ronan—” His name breaks from my lips on a gasp.
“There,” he growls. “Right there. That’s my girl.”
He finds the spot and works it with devastating precision, each thrust deliberate, measured, his hips grinding against me on every downstroke. The tension is building again—faster now, more savage, fed by the fullness of him inside me and the friction of his body against mine.
I grip him harder. My nails rake down his back. I cannot be still. I cannot lie silent and motionless. My body is a creature that has broken its leash, and it strains toward him with a hunger that would have horrified me an hour ago.
“Let me hear you,” he says, driving deeper. “Don’t hold back. Give me everything.”
I come apart a second time. The wave is quieter but deeper, rolling through me in long, shuddering pulses that clench around him in rhythmic surges. His name tears from my throat.
Seconds later, a groan rips from him as well—low, guttural, and ground out against the curve of my neck—and I register the hot jets of his seed inside me. He buries himself deep and holds, his body pinning mine to the mattress, his breath coming in harsh bursts against my skin.
We lie tangled together like this for several minutes. I feel his heart pound, and mine pounds back.
He eases out of me. “I’ll be right back, baby.” He presses a kiss to my forehead and rises from the bed.
Water runs in the bathroom and he returns with a warm, damp cloth. Kneeling beside the bed, he cleans me.
His hand is gentle, the cloth soft, and he works with a tenderness that does not match the size of him or the roughness of his hands. He wipes the blood—my blood, proof of my purity—from my thighs, and his touch is so careful I have to press my knuckles against my teeth to keep from making a sound.
This consummation of our vows has not gone as I expected at all. It is nothing like what Housemother Ruth prepared me for.
No man has ever tended to me. No man has knelt beside any bed I have slept in and touched me with care. I have been told my entire life that I exist to serve. That my body is a vessel of sin to be corrected, controlled, and used.
And this man is on his knees. Cleaning my body.Serving me.
He sets the cloth aside, lies beside me, pulls the covers over both of us, and draws me against him. His arm wraps around my waist, my back against his chest. His chin rests on the crown of my head.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He presses his lips to my hair. “Don’t thank me. You deserve the world.”
Ideserve. The notion is strange and I do not quite believe it. But it is also beautiful and, just for tonight, I shall hold it close.
