I nod ferociously. “Yes, Zane.Please.”
Zane’s cock presses up against my entrance. For a heartbeat, he just waits, eyes locked on mine, every line of his body drawn as taut as a bow. His heartbeat thunders against me. He’s solarge, so wide, but I want it all so badly, my vision blurs. The urge to squirm is overwhelming, but I force myself to hold still, to let him be the one to cross the line. When he finally pushes forward, rolling his hips the tiniest bit, the thick head parts me with an electric shock. I gasp, my whole body spasming around the intrusion.
He doesn’t ram it in all at once, but even so, the stretch is monumental. My walls grip him vise-tight. He pauses every few millimeters, only advancing when he feels me flutter and relax. I whimper, abjectly grateful for the attention but alsodesperateto be filled. The contradiction makes me seize around him harder.
He adds a hand to my thigh, spreading me open, thumb massaging little circles into my skin as he inches deeper.
“Breathe, Helena.”
I do, shuddering, sucking air into my lungs that seems to go straight to my brain and make me dizzier. My heart hammers behind my ribs. The burn between my legs is exquisite, equal parts pain and pleasure.
I never want it to stop.
When he bottoms out, his hips flush to mine, I nearly black out from the sensation. I’ve never felt so split open. Never so full.
Zane groans, a sound pulled up from somewhere deep and primal. “Gods, Helena.” He drops his forehead to mine, sweat already beading on his brow. “You’re perfect. Fuck.”
He stays there, unmoving, just letting me adjust. I think I could stay like this forever, impaled on him and staving off the next inevitable wave. But my body disagrees. It tightens and contracts, pulses hard around the thickness inside. A new flood of slick leaks out to soak the sheets beneath us.
He pulls back and thrusts again, so slow, so careful,I want to scream. The friction is a thousand tiny sparks against my nerves and my voice is gone, replaced by helpless gasps. My hands fumble for him so I can anchor on to his shoulders.
“You’re okay?” he asks.
I release a harsh breath. “Yes. Need you.Don’t stop.”
Zane grins. He draws out even slower this time, then pushes in with just enough force to make my body clamp down. And that’s all it takes for him to lose the last bit of control. He sets a harsh rhythm that sends the bed creaking under us. The storm seems to pound the windows in time with us.
The room is boiling and the sheets stick to my back. Every surface is slicked with sweat. Every time Zane drives in, his pelvis kisses my clit and sets off another little blaze of pleasure in my core. I brace myself on his arms, using him for leverage, chasing the rhythm until my thighs shake.
I can’t think. Can’t remember my own name. Every sense is reduced to the wet slap of bodies, the symphony of moans, the storm andZane, Zane, Zane.
He ups the pace. I meet him thrust for thrust, our hips colliding.
“Harder,” I beg, and he delivers, every thrust now brutal and desperate.
I feel it then, the swelling at the base of his cock, his knot forming—the only thing I want in the universe. I tremble on the edge of cumming, but I need his knot. I need to be locked together with him.
He knows. Of course he knows. Zane is nothing if not tuned to my every need. When he senses my desperation, he slams in deep and grinds his hips, coaxing his knot to slip past my entrance. The burn is instant, a white-hot spear of sensation, so intense, I arch off the mattress and scream.
He bites down on my shoulder. The pressure is perfect, and with the next thrust, his knot lodges deep inside, locking us together. I cum so hard, my vision whites out. Every muscle spasms. I clutch at him like I’ll never let him go.
I don’t intend to.
Zane groans my name. His hips jerk, and I feel the pulsing warmth as he fills me with his own release. His knot seals everything inside. His weight crushes me, but I want it—want to be anchored to the world by the force of this alpha.
All I can do is pant and tremble. My skin prickles, not with the heat of the room, but with something else. The pain is gone, replaced by an immense fullness and sated, raw euphoria.
But the relief is brief. The aftershocks hit, smaller waves of need that threaten to build again.
I’m greedy.
I’m insatiable.
I whimper as my hips rock involuntarily. Zane lifts his head, eyes dark with concern and desire.
He strokes my cheek, thumb tracing my jaw. “Still hurting?”
“It’s not—” I have to swallow before I can speak. “I need more. I need…” I can’t finish. The words are shameful, the cravings worse.
