"You can take me. All of me." His voice was rough but certain as he fitted the head of his cock against her. She bit her lip as liquid heat slipped from her and she clenched in anticipation. "Every inch, kelarris. You're going to take every inch of me."
He pushed and she sucked in a breath. The stretch was immediate. Intense. He paused, his jaw tight as he watched her face, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Too much?"
"No." She grabbed his hip with one hand, nails digging in. "Don't you dare fucking stop."
The smile that flickered across his face was feral.
He didn't stop. But he didn't rush either. He worked her in shallow thrusts, each one sliding a little deeper than the last. It was erotic torture… the pressure building as he forced her body to open for him.
"So tight," he groaned. "Draanth, you're squeezing me so hard. Perfect. You're so perfect."
She whimpered, biting her lip as pleasure hit hard and fast. His cock pressed against nerve-endings she hadn’t known she had.
"Good girl." The words were a growl against her ear. "You can take all of me. All of my cock."
Something inside her clenched at the words. The dirty talk was devastating… this man who'd been so careful with her before, now telling her exactly what he wanted in that rough voice while he split her open on his cock.
"You're mine now," he continued, pushing deeper. "My mate. My kelarris."
The translator patch did something it hadn't done before. Instead of just giving her the word, it gave her the full meaning.
Kelarris. Beloved. Soulmate.
Her eyes widened. He'd been calling her that since the beginning. And she hadn't understood.
But then he thrust again and he was fully seated inside her.
She couldn't move, could barely breathe. He was so deep, so thick and wide that he filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming and all-consuming.
"Breathe," he murmured as he slid a hand between them, finding her clit again. "Just breathe. I've got you."
He stroked, slow and steady, and the tension in her body began to ease. The stretch turned to fullness. The fullness turned to need.
She rocked her hips. She couldn’t help it.
"Draanth." His head dropped to her shoulder, his whole body shuddering. "Do that again."
She did it again and his control broke. He pulled back and his first full thrust was devastating.
She cried out, her nails raking down his back, and he groaned and did it again. Harder. Deeper. He set a rhythm that drove the breath from her lungs and every single thought from her head.
She couldn't do anything but gasp as he claimed her. It should have felt rough. Brutal. And it was—but it was also tender. The way he watched her face and the way he stroked her clit was gentle even as his hips snapped forward with bruising force.
He was claiming her and worshipping her all at once.
And the fact that she could reduce a man like him to this—this raw, desperate need—made her feel like a fucking goddess.
"I'm—" She couldn't finish the sentence. The orgasm was building again, faster than before, coiling tight in her belly.
"I know." He pressed harder on her clit. "Come for me again. I want to feel you."
She came.
It hit her like a tidal wave, her body clenching around him so hard she saw stars. He groaned and kept thrusting, kept taking, and before the first orgasm finished he’d pushed her into a second one.
She screamed his name as she came again, and again.
