Page 90 of Fallen Hero

And in that moment, I finally experienced what it meant to physically feel beauty.

I used my free hand to cup her face, forcing her to look at me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she rasped.

Her thighs clenched my hips, and her nails dug into my shoulder.

“Relax, Calli, and breathe.”

“I need to move.”

I needed her to move, but not before I knew she wasn’t in pain.

She’s a virgin, asshole, of course she’s in pain.

Or was one until she’d impaled herself on my cock.

Christ.

“Please don’t make me stop,” she pleaded.

She squeezed her thighs tighter, her cunt clamped around my cock painfully as she inched up and slid back down.

“Take what you need, baby,” I groaned.

“I want you on top.”

“I want you in control. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, Mason. I want you, all of you. I trust you.”

Jesus. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

“You promise to tell me—”

“Yes.”

The word had barely left her mouth when I flipped us over.

I closed my eyes and dropped my head to her forehead.

Good Christ, this woman owned me.

I’d dig to the deepest depths of my control to give her what she needed, to make this good for her even if I died in the process.

And while she was at it, she could have my heart and soul if it meant she wouldn’t walk away.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mason lifted his head to look down at me.

I was mesmerized by the sight. Big, beautiful Mason Hughes on top of me, connected bodily, skin to skin. As amazing as the sight was, I needed more. My breasts felt full and heavy, my nipples were ultrasensitive from Mason’s mouth, and my core clenched and ached at the same time.

“Calista,” Mason groaned, sounding pained.

“I need . . .” I trailed off, unable to communicate what I needed.