Page 15

He presses in, just the head, and the stretch burns and I gasp. He stills at once, jaw tight, holding himself in check for me.

"That's it. Breathe around me. Feel that? You're taking me so well." He sinks deeper. Painfully slow.

Reading my face for every flicker, and the feeling of him entering into me is overwhelming. So much pressure.

He starts to give me more, until he reaches the place that has never let anyone in. He pauses there, watching my face, waiting, and then he presses through that last tight resistance, steady and sure.

It gives all at once. A bright, sharp sting, a pressure that breaks and blooms. The last thing that was only ever mine, gone, handed to him on purpose. My breath catches on a sound that is half hurt and half something I have no name for.

He stops like he hit a wall.

"I've got you." His mouth finds my temple, my cheekbone, the corner of my lips, and he holds himself right there, buried just past that first resistance, as still as he can manage. Giving me time to let me stretch and settle around him.

"That's the worst of it, I promise. You did so good. So good for me." His voice is shredded with the effort of holding still. "Tell me when you’re ready."

I breathe. The sting bleeds down into a deep, full ache, into the impossible fact of him inside me, and when I test my hips against his the ache goes warm and greedy.

He’s waiting for me.

"You’re made for this. Made to take me. Look how perfect you are. Look at us."

I look between us, he’s seated fully inside me. Buried deep, both of us breathing hard.

"You okay?"

I can feel him shaking trying to stop from moving.

"Yes." I raise my hips to nudge him on. “Move.”

He starts to move, slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out and sliding back in. The burn melts into something that spreads to my fingertips and toes. Every drag of him lighting a fuse inside me.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Your pussy feels so good. See, you’re made for my cock.”

I can’t hold on. Because I finally have Jax inside me.

I orgasm a second time with his name on my lips and his fingers laced tightly through mine.

He follows me over a few deep strokes later, groaning into the crook of my neck.

He softens inside me and eases out slowly, careful even now, and I feel the loss of him like a held breath let go. Some greedy new part of me wants to chase the fullness back.

"Stay right there." He presses a kiss to my hip, eases off the condom, ties it and drops it in the bin by the bed, then crosses to the bathroom, unashamed and gorgeous in the low light.

I hear the water run.

He comes back with a warm washcloth, and I go tight with embarrassment and reach for the sheet. "Jax, I can do that myself."

"I know you can." He catches my knee, gentle, and eases my legs back open, and his voice drops into something unbearably tender. "Let me."

So I let him. He cleans me slowly and carefully, the warm cloth moving between my thighs. I can’t look at him. But I feel when he finishes.

"Hey. Look at me." He waits until I do. "You did so good, sweetheart. So good for me." He presses a kiss to the inside of my knee like it's a promise. "How do you feel? Sore?"

"A little." My voice comes out small. "I'm okay."

"You're better than okay. You're the bravest person I know." He drops the cloth at the side of the bed.

After, we lie tangled in the dark, his heart beating under my palm. And I have never in my life felt this way. The only word I have for it is I felt ‘found’.