“Don’t stop.”
She slid her fingers across her core, stifling a gasp as she watched him grip himself tighter, move his fist faster.
Spreading her legs wider, she slipped one finger inside of herself, breath hitching.
“That’s it,” His voice raw. “Think of how good you’ll feel clenched around me.”
Guinevere whimpered softly as she worked her fingers, her thighs trembling, eyes locked to his. Lancelot grunted, his jaw tight, his strokes erratic now.
“I can’t-” He ground out, stepping forward, voice rough and breaking. “I need-”
She barely had time to breathe before he was on her, grabbing her wrist to still her hand and shoving it aside as he pushed her back on the bed.
The mattress groaned beneath them.
“You’re mine, Guinevere.” He snarled, grinding against her like he was branding her. He dragged the head of his cock along her slick heat.
“Yours.” She arched into him, dragging her nails down his back. Her gaze darted down to the space between them, pulse fluttering.
“I don’t-” She tried not to groan at the pressure she felt. “I don’t think-”
“I’ll fit.” He gritted out with a noise that almost sounded like a laugh.
With a gentle rock, he pushed the tip past her entrance. His teeth found her shoulder as he moaned against her skin. “Fuck,” He stuttered, hips twitching. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Gwen felt full and entirely too empty. She rolled her hips, begging him for more.
“Slow down,” Lance grunted, his hand sliding between them. He circled his thumb around her clit, dragging a hiss from her.
With her eyes threatening to roll back, she grasped at his arms. Wriggling her hips beneath him. “Please, Lancelot.” She breathed, “I want you.”
“Not ready, not yet.” The veins in his neck pulsed with restraint as he worked his fingers against her, warming her up.
“Iam.”
That was all the permission he needed.
He snapped his hips up, filling her completely in a single thrust that knocked the breath out of her. He rocked into her without pause. His fingers dug into her hips to hold her in place.A pinch of pain, followed by pleasure that she’d never experienced.
Would never feel again, apart from him.
Tears pricked at her eyes as he stretched her, her fingers digging into his arms. “More,” she whispered beneath him. Her voice had all but disappeared.
Lancelot made a sound halfway between a growl and a whimper, driving into her like he couldn’t bear the thought of a single inch between them. His mouth found hers, hot and unrelenting, their teeth knocking, lips bruising, and still it wasn’t close enough.
She tasted blood in his kiss.
He gripped the back of her knee and hitched her leg higheraround his waist, angling deeper… and Guinevere cried out, her whole body arching for him.
He waseverywhere.
His hands claimed every inch of her body. His mouth claimed more.
But the way he twitched inside her… that’s what was sending her over the edge.
She wasconstructedfor him.
She grabbed the hand at her hip, bringing it up to cover her breast.
