“I’m yours.” Her voice was a whisper, then stronger. “I’m yours. Only yours.”
A sound ripped from my throat, part groan, part prayer. I kissed her again, harder this time, my tongue plunging deep, claiming the taste of her, the feel of her. My other hand swept down her body, over the smooth plane of her stomach, the dip of her navel, lower.
She was already wet for me. Soaked. The evidence of her want, her trust, her surrender met my fingertips and sent a jolt of pure, possessive heat straight to my cock.
“Fuck, Aura,” I breathed against her lips. “Look what you do to me. What I do to you.”
I slid a finger inside her slowly, watching her face. Her lips parted on a silent gasp, her eyes squeezing shut. She was tight, hot, clenching around me instinctively.
“Look at me,” I commanded, my voice low and rough.
Her eyes opened, hazy with pleasure.
“That’s it,” I murmured, crooking my finger, finding that spot inside her that made her back arch off the mattress. “See? This is mine. This heat. This wet. This perfect, tight cunt clutching my finger like it’s afraid I’ll leave. I’m not leaving. I’m going to be here, buried inside you, reminding you who you belong to, until neither of us can remember a time before this.”
Her hips rocked against my hand, a desperate, involuntary rhythm. “East… please…”
“Please what, sweetheart?” I added a second finger, stretching her, feeling her body give way for me. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”
“I need you.” Her voice was broken, pleading. “I need you inside me. Now.”
“How?” I pressed, scissoring my fingers, watching her writhe. “How do you want me?”
“I don’t care. Just… fill me. Claim me. Make me feel it.”
That was all I needed.
I withdrew my fingers, bringing them to my mouth and sucking them clean, never breaking eye contact. Her taste exploded on my tongue—sweet, musky, uniquely her. “Mine,” I growled around my fingers.
I shifted between her legs, pushing them wider with my knees. I didn’t enter her yet. I just held myself there, the head of my cock nudging against her soaked entrance, teasing us both.
Her chest was heaving, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Easton, I swear—”
“You swear what?” I dropped my head, kissing the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. “Tell me.”
“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to murder you.”
A dark laugh rumbled in my chest. “That’s my girl.”
And I drove into her.
One long, deep, relentless thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
The feeling was catastrophic. The slick, hot, velvet vise of her body sheathing me completely, the broken, sobbing cry that tore from her lips, the way her legs locked around my hips, pulling me deeper. I saw stars. My vision whited out at the edges. For a second, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only feel the overwhelming rightness of being inside her, connected, home.
“Oh, fuck,” I choked out, my forehead falling to her shoulder. “Aura… fuck…”
She was trembling beneath me, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around me in rhythmic pulses. “You feel… you feel so big. So deep.”
I lifted my head, finding her eyes. They were wide, dazed, full of tears and wonder. “Look at me,” I said again, my voice shaking with the effort to hold still. “Look at me while I’m inside you. See who you belong to.”
“I see you,” she whispered, her hands sliding up to cup my face. “I see you, East.”
My control snapped.
I began to move.
Slow at first, long, grinding strokes that dragged every inch of me against every sensitive part of her. I wanted her to feel it all. The stretch. The fullness. The friction. I wanted her to memorize the shape of me inside her.
