His eyes darkened.
He stood, eyes locked on mine, and with one smooth, deliberate motion, he tugged the towel loose from his waist. It dropped to the floor without a sound. His cock dropped into view—thick and massive, veins prominent, flushed dark and glistening. I swallowed hard. He was just as gorgeous as I remembered, but this time, that thing was going inside me. My mouth went dry. My thighs pressed together in anticipation. He caught my look—part awe, part terror—and smirked. “Still want me to fuck you, Malaya?”
My breath hitched, but I gave a small nod.
He climbed over me again, kissed me like he meant to claim every breath I had left, and then slowly—achingly slowly—aligned himself with my entrance, his cock hard and hot as he nudged against the tight, wet heat of me. His hand gripped mythigh, fingers digging in before softening, stroking me instead. Our eyes locked, his chest rising like he was holding back a storm.
He rubbed against me first—once, twice—coating himself, teasing, making me tremble before he finally began to push in. The stretch was intense, his size forcing my body open inch by inch. I gasped, breath catching, back arching, fingers gripping his shoulders like a lifeline.
“Breathe,” he whispered into my ear. “Just let me in.”
I tried. But my legs tensed involuntarily, thighs clenching around his hips.
“Relax, Malaya,” he said, voice gravelly, kissing the side of my neck. “You’re doing perfectly.”
He pulled back slightly, then pushed in again—deeper this time. The burn bloomed and twisted into pleasure, raw and all-consuming. My nails bit into his back. He groaned at the sting.
I whimpered, my hips twitching beneath him. He was barely halfway in, and I already felt like I was being split apart. My breath came in ragged gasps as my body struggled to adjust, instinctively trying to clamp down and push him out, but also desperate to keep him there, to take more. The pressure burned, a sharp, aching fullness that sent tremors through me. I blinked up at him, overwhelmed, panting, stunned by how much I wanted what I wasn’t sure I could handle. Every nerve ending screamed—some in protest, others in pleasure I didn’t yet know how to name.
He stilled, forehead pressed to mine. “You need to tell me if it’s too much.”
I shook my head, lips parting in a shudder. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
His hand slid down to my hip, anchoring me, and then he thrust again—deeper. My mouth fell open in a cry that was halfpain, half ecstasy. The stretch, the pressure, the overwhelming fullness—it was too much. And yet, I craved more.
My legs wrapped around his waist without thinking. I clung to him as he began to move with slow, grinding thrusts, working me open with every push of his hips.
“You’re not real,” he muttered, breath hot against my cheek.
I couldn’t speak. My hands roamed over his back, his arms, his neck. I wanted to feel all of him, drown in him. His cock dragged against every nerve ending, lighting me up from the inside.
Then he angled his hips just right, and the friction hit something deep—something devastating. I cried out.
“There?” he asked, breath harsh.
“Yes. Oh God, yes.”
He thrust again, harder now, giving me more. My cries turned into moans, my moans into something shameless. I’d never been taken like this. Never felt this kind of pleasure. My virgin body writhed under his, soaking in the rhythm.
I clawed at his shoulders. He didn’t stop. Didn’t let up.
“I was planning to take my time with you,” he murmured, almost amused. “You’re not making that easy.”
He rolled his hips in a slow, grinding motion, drawing circles inside me with every inch. He kissed me, deep and hungry, then pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were fire. I could barely hold his gaze.
He shifted again, pulling me closer. His thrusts were deeper now—slower, but devastating. My whole body trembled.
His hand slid between us and found my clit, rubbing in tight circles that made my hips jerk.“Give it to me, Malaya,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “That sweet little cry you make when you come. I fucking need it.”
His pace quickened. My thighs clenched, body twisting, eyes rolling back. My orgasm built like fire licking up my spine. I couldn’t hold it. I started crying—literal tears spilling as Ibegged him with broken, breathless whimpers. “Please… please, Maksym… don’t stop, please—”
My legs snapped shut around his waist, locking him in place. My thighs clenched around him, trembling, and I came with a scream.
“Fuck,” he growled. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”
He kept thrusting through it, pushing me past the edge, holding my body like I was something sacred and filthy all at once. I felt him pulse inside me, the tension in his body spiraling, tightening, like a wave waiting to crash.
In that moment, lost in the heat and high of it all, I wanted to feel his cum inside me. I wanted it more than I wanted to breathe. I wouldn’t have minded carrying his child. Hell, I would’ve carried an army for him—born every last one of his sons if it meant he’d stay inside me just a little longer. I was delirious, drenched in pleasure so deep that I would’ve let him do anything.
