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“I know, Finn. I want it. I want you, and nothing is going to change that.”

I pause, breathing her in, feeling the weight of the moment—the gravity of what we’re about to share.

“Look at me while I enter you,” she nods, gaze locked on mine, and what I see there steals the breath from my lungs. Love, longing, and something so achingly raw it makes my chest tighten.

I grip her hip tight, fingers digging into heated skin, holding her still, steady, open for me as I drag myself through her slick heat—letting the thick, swollen head of my cock tease her entrance—but not giving in yet.

“I’m yours.”

The words spill from me, a vow, a promise, a surrender, spoken just as I push the tip of me into her.

Her body yields to mine, welcoming me, and the sensation is indescribable—a blend of heat and connection so deep it feels as if our souls are colliding.

A throaty moan rips from her as she lifts her hips, taking me all the way in, all at once—we both cry out, the sensation too much, too perfect, too right.

Her body welcomes mine as if she were crafted for me, opening instinctively, perfectly. The first thrust steals my breath, the connection instant and electric, as though the universe itself has aligned just for us.

Her nails bite into my skin as I drive deeper, setting a rhythm that leaves us both trembling.

“Triona.”

Her name is a prayer, a plea, a worshipful groan as I press a line of kisses down her throat, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver beneath me.

“I want to hear you.” My voice is thick, dripping with need as I drive deeper, hips rolling in slow, deliberate, relentless circles. “Every gasp, every moan. Let me know how good I make you feel.”

Her body trembles, her breath hitches, her nails raking down my arms as she clutches me tighter, pulling me impossibly closer.

“Finn,” she moans, voice dripping with both need and impatience. “Please. Harder.”

My hand drifts lower, claiming her, finding a firm grip on her plump arse, using it to pull her into every thrust, guiding her to take more, to take everything.

She arches beneath me, her back bowing, her thighs spreading wider, cradling me as though I belong inside her.

She whimpers, pleads, voice breaking as I slip a hand between us, my fingers finding that swollen, aching place, stroking it with measured precision, matching every movement to the rhythm of my thrusts.

“More,” she pleads in a breathless whisper, every word heavy with longing. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it. All of you.”

Each thrust elicits a chorus of soft, trembling gasps and husky moans—sounds that signal her nearing the edge, that whisper of a pleasure about to burst forth.

Every exhalation, every subtle, yearning cry from her lips, drives me onward, compelling me to worship her body as though it were my salvation.

“Come for me,” I command, the movement of my hand against her swollen bundle a perfect tempo. “Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

Her head tips back, and a broken moan escapes her lips as her body tenses beneath me, trembling on the very edge of release. With one final, perfectly timed stroke—synchronised with the rhythm of my hips—she shatters, her body convulsing around me as every nerve ignites in a wild pulse of surrender.

Her cries of pleasure push me over the edge.

My rhythm falters, and a deep groan tears from my throat as I bury myself fully.

“Triona—”

Her name erupts from me, a raw, guttural groan, my hips locking to hers as my climax rips through me, pleasure so intense, so overwhelming I can do nothing but give her everything I have left.

I spill deep inside her, my body shaking with the aftershocks of it, my arms trembling as I brace myself above her, refusing to let us part just yet.

I press my forehead to hers, our ragged breaths mingling, my hands still caressing, still claiming, still worshipping.

“Ye’re mine,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion.