She sinks down slowly—so fucking slowly—and I feel every inch of her tight heat enveloping me. She's so small, so impossibly tight, and my cock stretches her wider than she's ever been stretched. Through the connection, I feel the burn, the pressure, the edge of discomfort as her body struggles to accommodate me.
"Easy," I grit out. "Take your time."
She lowers another inch. Then another. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. Her nipples are hard peaks, her body trembling with effort and sensation.
Gods, she's perfect like this. Absolutely perfect.
She keeps sinking until I'm buried completely inside her, and we both stop breathing. The feeling is indescribable—tight and hot and right in ways I didn't know were possible. Through the connection, I feel her fullness, the overwhelming stretch, the pleasure-pain of being so completely taken.
"Fuck," I groan. "Serah?—"
She starts to move. Lifting up slowly then sinking back down, finding a rhythm. Her expression is one of intense concentrationmixed with building pleasure. Every movement is deliberate, controlled. She's taking what she wants, learning her own body's responses.
I grip her hips, guiding but not controlling. Helping her find the angle that makes her gasp, that sends pleasure spiking through our connection bright and sharp.
She rides me harder, more confidently. Her head is thrown back, breasts bouncing with each movement. The sight is so erotic I nearly come right there.
"That's it," I encourage. "Take it. Take everything."
She does. She rides me like she's claiming me, like she's proving to herself that she can have this, can want this, can feel pleasure without fear. The psychological component of that bleeds through our connection, mixing with physical sensation until I can't separate them.
She's close. I can feel her orgasm building through the bond, feel her body tensing toward release. I thrust up to meet her movements, driving deeper, and she cries out.
"Rakk—I'm?—"
"Come," I command. "Let me feel you come on my cock."
She does. Her pussy clamps down on me like a vise, rhythmic pulses that milk my shaft. Through the connection, her pleasure crashes into mine and I'm lost. My orgasm hits like a physical blow, stealing thought and breath. I come inside her in hot pulses, filling her, marking her as mine.
We shatter together, pleasure feeding between us until I can't tell where I end and she begins.
10
SERAH
Iwake tangled in Rakk's arms, the cave floor warmed by dying embers. His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, steady and solid. Real.
I can't quite believe this is real.
My body aches in unfamiliar ways—pleasant soreness that reminds me of everything we did last night. Everything Ichoseto do. The distinction matters more than I can articulate. For the first time in my life, I wanted someone and acted on that want without fear of punishment or consequences.
Rakk's hand is splayed across my back, possessive even in sleep. I trace idle patterns on his chest, following the ridges of muscle, memorizing the feel of him. He's so warm, so much larger than me that I should feel trapped. Instead I feel safe.
That terrifies me almost as much as it comforts.
"You're thinking too loud," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
I tilt my head to look at him. His amber eyes are half-open, watching me with an expression that makes my chest tight. "How do you know I'm thinking?"
"Your whole body tenses when you overthink things." His hand slides up my spine in a slow caress. "What's wrong?"
Everything. Nothing.I don't know how to explain that I'm waiting for this to shatter, for the price of last night's pleasure to come due. That's how it always works—moments of peace followed by violence, kindness revealed as manipulation.
But Rakk isn't like that. I know he isn't. He's proven it over and over.
"Just processing," I say instead.
He studies my face for a long moment. Then his hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek. "Last night was incredible. You were incredible."
