Page 62 of Given to the Black King

“Breathe.”

“I am.”

“You are holding it.”

I let the breath out.

His thumb returns to my clit. Pleasure loosens the tension.

He rocks the crown against me rather than forcing it. A small retreat. Another press. Each movement lets me open a little farther around the flare.

Then the head slips inside.

The ring follows.

The sound I make stops him.

He freezes.

“Hold,” I say.

Every muscle in him strains. His fangs remain bared above his lower lip. His claws have pierced the mattress but not me.

I breathe until the burning eases.

The ring sits just inside me, making the fullness impossible to ignore. Two harder lines press along the lower wall of my body.

I move my hips experimentally.

The ring drags.

Pleasure cuts through the stretch.

“Oh.”

The last gray vanishes behind Torgan’s pupils. “What?”

“The ridge. Move back a little.”

He withdraws until the ring catches at my entrance.

“Now in.”

He presses forward.

Every short drag scrapes exactly where I need it.

My legs tighten around his hips.

“Again.”

His jaw flexes.

He gives me the same short stroke. Out until the flare catches. In until he sits deep.

The burn becomes heat.

“More.”