"Breathe," he murmurs against my lips. "Just breathe and try to relax."
I nod, forcing my muscles to unclench. He pushes forward slowly, and I feel the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness of him entering me.
"Oh God," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He stops immediately. "Too much?"
"No. Don't stop. Please don't stop."
He pushes deeper, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. The burn intensifies, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.
"Breathe, Autumn," he reminds me, his voice strained. "Fuck, you're so tight. So perfect. Taking me so well."
The praise helps. I focus on his words, on the feeling of him filling me, on the way his whole body is shaking with the effort of going slow.
And then he's fully inside, and we're both still, just breathing.
"Okay?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"Yeah. Give me a second."
He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, keeping still even though I can feel how badly he wants to move. The bear is growling, I can hear it rumbling in his chest, but he's holding back for me.
The burn starts to fade, replaced by something else. A fullness that feels right, feels good. Like my body was made to take him, to hold him.
"Okay," I whisper. "You can move."
He pulls back slowly, and the slide of him against my inner walls makes me moan. Then he pushes back in, and oh God, that's even better.
"Fuck," he groans. "Autumn, I can't even—"
He starts moving in earnest now, long, deep strokes that make my back arch off the bed. The pain is completely gone, replaced by pleasure that builds with every thrust.
"Yes," I moan. "Rhett, yes, just like that."
"You feel so fucking good," he growls, his hips snapping forward. "So wet, so tight, so perfect. Mine. You're mine."
"Yours," I agree breathlessly. "All yours."
The possessiveness in his voice should probably bother me. Should feel like too much, too fast. Instead, it makes me wetter, makes me clench around him.
He notices. Of course he notices.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough. "Like being mine?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He fucks me harder, and I can feel the bed shaking. His control is slipping. I can see it in his eyes, in the way his movements are getting more erratic, more desperate.
"Need you on top," he suddenly says, pulling out.
I whimper at the loss, but he's already moving, rolling onto his back and pulling me with him.
"Ride me," he demands. "Want to watch you take what you need."
I've never done this before. Never been on top, never had to figure out the rhythm myself. But my body seems to know what to do. I straddle his hips, and he grips my waist, helping me position myself. Then I sink down onto him, taking him deep.
"Fuck!" The angle is different like this, deeper somehow. He hits something inside me that makes my whole body light up.
