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I think he senses my restlessness, my need because he eases forward just a little more. Just as it starts to feel uncomfortable again, to fill me up too much, he stops moving, and all the pressure inside slowly eases off over the seconds until he moves again. I don’t know how he knows, whether he can tell from my face or he is driven by instinct as well, but every time it begins to hurt too much he stops – and every time it feels good he moves again.
Finally, I hear him give a soft moan, and I look down, trying to keep my eyes open long enough to see. I think he’s all the way inside me, his head thrown back just for a moment as mine was before he looks down at me fiercely. Possessively.
Our eyes meet, and I know. In this moment, he owns me. I only had one virginity to give, and he has taken it, and it is his. I am his. For this moment and for all time, there is no changing that. No matter what may happen later, this moment stretches forward for the rest of our lives.
He’s claimed me, and by the primal expression in his eyes, he knows it, and by the way, he fills me so completely, I feel it.
And with a growl, low in his chest, he begins to move again, and it’s so much more than I ever could have imagined.
He pulls out slowly and pushes back in at the same pace, driving a delicious friction that is so new and yet so old I know my bones know it. There’s a strain on his face, in the muscles of his neck standing out against his skin, and at first, I wonder why. But as he moves the friction becomes more pleasurable, the action more comfortable, and I know.
He’s holding back – being gentle for me, just like he said.
“Don’t,” I pant, and he immediately freezes up, which is the opposite of what I wanted. I force my tongue to form the rest of the words, to find them somewhere back in the depths of my overwhelmed brain. “Don’t hold back.”
He moves slowly inside me like he can’t stop moving for anything. “Are you sure?” he asks, studying my face, his eyes drifting back and forth like he’s searching for something.
I might be nervous. Scared, even. This is the first time I’m trying any of this.
But the one thing I’m not is uncertain.
“Yes,” I breathe, and Oz groans in the back of his throat like he can’t take it, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
When they open, he looks at me with something even more fierce, even more primal. He grips my hips with both of his hands and before I can even brace myself, he pulls out and thrusts back in hard, making me gasp, sending vibrations running through all of my nerves that are unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
He doesn’t stop moving then, not for anything. He grabs me in his huge hands, a sensation of safety and possession that somehow heightens everything even more, and thrusts into me with a speed and ferocity that almost unmoors me completely. I grasp hold of the sheets in my hands, feeling them twist in my fingers, desperately trying to hold onto something, anything. My whole body jolts up and down under the force of his thrusts, and underneath all the overwhelming sensations is something else, something growing larger and harder to ignore by the second. A screaming pleasure starting in that cluster of nerves somewhere inside me and spiraling out, filling me just as completely as he does, spreading with each slam of his body against mine, each brush of him inside of me, each time he pulls back out.
It’s so intense I don’t know how to breathe through it. So wild I don’t know how to hold onto my sanity through it. So big, so hard to contain, that I don’t think I can – and it rises up inside of me, taking over like a flood, shattering all of my control, all my boundaries…
I let go with a cry and feel myself soaring somewhere higher than I thought possible, strange currents running through my whole body and making it twitch and jerk on its own, driven by the pure ecstasy radiating through me.
My last thought is that I imagined the thing we did in the closet was amazing. I had no idea just how incredible this could really feel.
Chapter Twenty
Oz
The feeling of her letting go and finding her release tips me over the edge, making me spill myself inside of her. For a long time we simply rest just like that, still entwined and panting for breath, the sweat drying on our skin.
At last, the only thing I can do is pull out and lay beside her, drawing her across the bed to settle her into my arms. This is a different kind of intimacy, our bodies bare and lying close together for no other purpose, just enjoying the glow that lingers around us. I stroke the side of her face with my outstretched finger, studying her eyes.
