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I can’t ignore the throbbing between my legs any longer.
I’m going to make her mine.
Eden watches from beneath her lashes as I roll the condom on, settling between her legs. I stroke my cock a few times, rubbing the head against her folds. Her breath hitches at the contact, a delicious sound that I commit to memory. Nothing excites me more than seeing her so thoroughly captivated, peering at me with reverence.
“I’ll go slow,” I say, almost like I’m trying to reassure her. “You can still turn back now, Eden. All you have to do is tell me.”
She shakes her head, her cheeks and chest red with arousal. “Fuck me, sir. I want you to.”
I smirk. “That’s not how you ask me. Try again.”
“Please, sir. Please take me.”
“Hold onto me,” I tell her as I slowly sink into her warmth.
Even with all my prep work to loosen her up, Eden’s tight. Her pussy clenches around my cock, the heat of her walls too wonderful to even put into words. She circles my neck with her arms, spreading her legs wider to hook on either side of my hip. I kiss her deeply, languidly —both as a comfort and an apology.
“Oh,” she whines. “Oh, God, you’re so big.”
“I’m not all the way in yet.”
“Fuck, I don’t think I can take it, sir.”
“Just relax, Eden. You’re doing so good. I’m really proud of you.” I stroke her hair and kiss her soft cheeks, cradling her head close to my shoulder. I continue to push in carefully, slowly, until my hips are flush against hers. I groan, the sensation of her pussy gripping me tight unlike anything I’ve felt before. “Good girl,” I murmur against her hair. “Such a good girl.”
Eden laughs softly, her face twisting in pleasure. “I can’t believe I did it.”
I cut her off with a bruising kiss, refusing to let my lips leave hers. I start off with as slow a pace as I can manage, rocking my hips against her like a ship on steady seas. She moves with me, so soft and small beneath my massive weight, her fingers combing through my hair and raking down my back as I pull back and plunge back in.
Her groans of pleasure are music to my ears.
The bed creaks in protest beneath us as I pick up speed, kissing her like it’s the only thing I know. Something primal takes over my thoughts, something animalistic. Pride swells in my chest at the thought of being her first.
Men might come and go from her life, but I’ll forever hold a special place in Eden’s heart. I’m the first one who gets to fuck her tight little pussy. I’m the first one who gets to know what she sounds like when she’s overcome with ecstasy. I’m the one who gets to mark her skin with hard kisses and tease her nipples and play with her swollen clit until she screams.
“How does that feel?” I growl against her ear. “How do you like it when I fill you up?”
“S-so good, sir. Fuck I —ah— feel so fucking good.”
“Look how well you take me, Eden. So nice and wet, too.”
“Sir, I’m—” She chokes on a gasp. Her walls clench around me, drawing closer and closer to the edge.
“You close, baby? This time when you come, you’re going to thank me. Good girls thank me when they come on my cock. You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”
“Yes! Yes,God, please and thank you!Thankyouthankyouthank—”
I kiss her hard and savor her deep groan as her pussy squeezes me tight. The friction is just what I need to go hurtling over the edge with her, heat roaring through me like wildfire. I haven’t felt this alive in years. Every fiber of my being is alight, consumed entirely by her.
The impossible softness of her body beneath my palms. The scent of coconuts wafting from her shampoo. The taste of her lips on mine. The sound of her breathy panting. The sight of her dopey, satisfied grin.
Rolling onto my side, I pull her close. There’s beauty in the aftermath, nothing but the warmth radiating off our bodies and the gentle rhythm of our beating hearts. The rest of the world is lost to us, distant traffic muffled and barely noticeable.
Eden traces the outline of my tattoo, her eyes practically twinkling as she studies the ink. “Why a dragon?” she asks, a whisper.
I can’t tell her the truth. Not all of it. I’ve done well to bury my past. My tattoo is the only thing that connects me to my time working for the Waltons, a permanent brand that I was once wrapped around their finger.
“Because eighteen-year-old me lacked imagination and good sense.”
