He eases in deeper.
Another inch, then another.
My thighs start to shake. My hands claw into the sheets, pillow bunched beneath my face. My body resists, then gives, then pulls tight again as he sinks deeper, every slow push forcing me to adjust. I moan loud into the pillow, overwhelmed and clenching hard around him.
He holds still, forehead pressed to my shoulder. “I’m not gonna last if you keep gripping me like this,” he growls. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I’ll kill you if you stop,” I murmur.
He laughs and pushes in again.
I gasp when he bottoms out, hips flush to my ass, cock buried to the base inside me. The fullness is intense. A stretch that borders on too much, but not enough to make me stop. My body shakes from the shock of it, from the pressure and the heat and the way I can feel him in places I didn’t know could feel anything.
“Still okay?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Much better.”
He smiles against my skin.
“Good. Because I’m not stopping.”
He stays buried in me, holding still, giving my body time to adjust. His hand drags up my spine again, while his other hand shifts to grip the side of my thigh, keeping me open, keeping me grounded in sensation.
“You’re so tight,” he murmurs.
I swallow hard, every nerve lit up, every muscle on edge in the best way.
“Your dick is fucking huge,” I breathe.
He grins. “Yeah. And you’re taking me so fucking well.”
Then he pulls back.
Just a few inches. Then pushes in again.
I moan loud as his hips roll forward again, not thrusting yet, just grinding deeper, working me open in controlled rhythm. The movement sends shockwaves through my core. My body clenches hard around him with every slow push, every tiny withdrawal.
My face stays pressed to the pillow. My hips rock back to meet him without thinking.
His hand slides to my ass again, gripping tight. His cock moves in slow strokes, building pressure with every motion, never pulling out too far, never pushing too fast.
I can’t speak. I can only feel.
And I don’t want him to stop.
“Oh my god…Se—Seth.”
The words drag out of me in a broken moan I barely recognize as my own.
He chuckles, dark, low, rough in my ear, and does it again, rocking into me. Just enough to make me shudder and clench around him, my body trying to hold him there.
My arms give out and my chest hits the bed as he rocks into me again, this time with more weight behind it. Every roll of his hips pushes the stretch a little further. Every inch of him feels like it is carving a new space inside me.
The burn is still there, but it isn’t pain anymore, it is pressure. Fullness. Power.
And I need more of it.
I hadn’t known I could feel this full. I hadn’t known I could crave it this much. That it would make me feel untouchable. Desired. Worshipped. Claimed.
