Her breath hitches as he slides inside her, slow, steady. Inch by glorious inch.
“You feel so good,” he groans.
Her hips roll back again, taking in the last of him. A gasp slips past her lips.
“I love it when you make sounds like that,” Ronyn encourages, and the praise only makes her push back harder, letting another moan out. She usually tells him she hates it—the praise, the adoration. To shut up and just lie there. But here, under his touch, his praise, hisspell…she knows she was wrong.
Ronyn’s hand slides up the length of her spine, and his hips roll as pleasure blooms from her core.
She closes her eyes, focusing entirely on the pleasure, his cock filling her completely, the way his powerful thighs force her legs wide, and she pushes her ass higher. Sweat slicks along the planes of his stomach and chest, the scent of sex and salt thickening the air between them.
Her breasts find the floor, arms outstretched, so he can enter her with greater ease. The furs scratch softly beneath her skin every time he thrusts into her, anchoring her in the overwhelming reality of the moment.
She resists the urge to correct him. No,controlhim.
Gods, she hasn’t realized how exhausting control has become until this moment—until the relief of laying it down floods through her body like warmth returning to frozen limbs.
She squeezes her eyes closed.
She doesn’t have to see him. See anything.
She has spent so long gripping every moment with white-knuckled control that the act of letting go feels almost holy.
Just feel.
Just feel.
Just feel.
No decisions. No performance. No sharp edges to weaponize before someone else can use them first. Just sensation. Just trust. Just him carrying the weight for a while.
“Gods, woman,” he grits out, his hands smoothing over the round of her ass.
He drives into her harder, and she cries out in pleasure.
“Oh you like that?” he purrs.
“Yes,” she pants.
She wants it harder. Wants it to take her over entirely. No place for thought, only pleasure.
She wants to disappear inside the feeling of it. Wants every sharp, restless corner of herself drowned beneath sensation until there is nothing left to hold together. Nothing left to control.
His hand glides up her spine again, wrapping around the nape of her neck, until his wrist flicks, looping his palm around her hair.
He pulls. Hard. The sting blooms across her scalp in a way that makes her body light up with pleasure instead of resistance. Her head snaps back. She cries out. She pushes up onto her palms, her back arching in ecstasy.
“Don’t you hide from me in those furs, Jaxxy. I want to see you moan for me,” he growls, and the words flood her senses like a godsdamned promise.
He thrusts his hips forward, his cock filling every inch of her, as he pulls on her hair, forcing her back to arch even further. The muscles in his stomach tense behind her every time he buries himself inside her.
She slides her knees wider, hungry to take more of him.
“Oh, you want more?” he asks, voice all cheek and command.
She tries to nod, but he grips her hair tighter.
“Yes,” she says instead.
