“I mean it,” he growls, fucking me slow but deep, each stroke dragging fire across my nerves. “You think I’d risk this with anyone else?”
We move together. Rhythm syncing. Breathing like we’re tethered.
Every thrust knocks sound from my lips, steals the air from my lungs, replaces it with want. Withneed.
“Troka,” I whimper. “Harder.”
His grip on my hips tightens. He flips us, pins my wrists above my head, and starts tothrust.
Hard.
Rough.
Perfect.
The bed creaks beneath us, headboard banging the wall in rhythm with our bodies. I arch under him, every nerve blazing.
“Look at me,” he growls.
I force my eyes open, meet his gaze. There’s no smirk there. No arrogance. Just raw, blistering honesty.
“I’m gonna come,” I gasp.
“Let go,” he says, panting. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
That does it.
My orgasm slams into me like a quake. I cry out, body locking around him, pussy clenching tight as waves of pleasure roll through me. He fucks me through it, relentless, soaking in every tremble, every sound.
Then he snarls.
Grabs my hips hard.
Andslamsinto me one final time.
He spills inside me with a roar—hot, thick pulses filling me as his body shudders above mine.
We collapse together, tangled and slick with sweat, his chest heaving against mine.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours.
I rest my head on his shoulder, eyes closed, breath shallow. His heart thuds under my palm—steady, grounding. His fingers trace soft, absent-minded circles on my lower back.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “You?”
“Better than I got any right to be.”
I swallow hard. My throat burns with truths I don’t know how to speak.
“I need to tell you something.”
He shifts, tilting his head.
But then… he speaks first.
“I wish I could go back,” he says, voice rough. “Do everything right. Answer your messages. Come home sooner. Be the male you deserved.”
