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Sully wraps me up in his arms, hands tangled in my hair. He looks into my eyes and holds me there.
“You’remine,” he growls. “Mine and no one else’s.”
His cock presses against me, hot and throbbing. I part my thighs. “Then take me.”
With those deep, dark eyes fixed on mine, Sullivan slowly slides inside. He pushes in, bit by bit, a heat and friction so unbearably intense that it rides the line of pain and pleasure.
He’s slow, achingly slow, giving me time to stretch around him. His eyes are locked on mine, his lips brushing my mouth. I breathe him, taste him, and take him in, a millimeter at a time.
It seems an age until our bodies meet. Time stretches, flexible and elastic. The air is honey thick, perception melts. My body becomes his body and his becomes mine, linked together, one creature, bonded by this all-consuming sensation.
If this is sex, then I guess everything I did before was just pretending. Because I’ve never known anything that felt like this.
Sully’s powerful enough to crush me, but he holds me like precious porcelain. He gathers me up in his arms like a doll, lifting me, sliding me down on his cock. I’m on top now, gazing down into his face, but he’s still in control. His hands circle my waist. The tilt of his wrists shifts my hips. He rocks me, makes me ride him.
His body surges beneath me. He lifts his hips, thrusting into me, and pulls me down with his hands. My palms are flat on his chest. My hair hangs down around us like a curtain.
His hands explore my body, running up and down my sides. He cups my breasts in his hands, lifts them, plays with them. His thumbs slide across my nipples, teasing them, pulling them into points.
“These breasts, this body, those lips…” His burning eyes stare up into mine. “You’re a goddess, Theo. I worship you.”
I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing when Sully is lying.
When he gazes up at me now, what he says is the pure, unvarnished truth—he looks at me and sees something divine.
There it is, reflected in his eyes: what I can be at my best, my strongest, my most ethereal—what I am right now, in this moment, because of him.
When Achilles’ mother wanted to make him immortal, she held him over a fire. I’m bathed in Sully’s flame, in the heat from his body, the fire in his eyes. It surges through my veins. I burn and burn, knowing when this is over, I’ll never be the same.
Sully grips my waist, fingers digging in. He thrusts up into me, harder, faster, making me trot on top of him, making my breasts bounce.
Each thrust pulses through my body. Each breath lights me on fire.
I ride and ride him while he worships me with his hands.
Then I lock my fingers through his, and I lean down to kiss him, drowning him in thick, dark hair. His hands grip mine, and he turns to whisper in my ear, “Come for me, baby girl…”
I kiss him deeply, using the taste of his mouth to tip me over the edge.
I tumble down and down and down through a staircase of mirrors, a thousand sensations splintering and twisting, a kaleidoscope of color turning in on itself.
Deep inside me, I feel the rush and roar of Sully’s climax. His arms lock around me and his mouth melds with mine.
He is me and I am him, one brilliant bolt of pleasure…
And then I’m back in my body again, wrapped up safe and warm in Sully’s arms.
I waketo knocking at the door and fall out of bed in a tangle of sheets that still smell like Sullivan though he’s nowhere to be found.
That’s strange because I’m still in his room and it’s still the middle of the night.
Even stranger, I open the door to find Reese instead of Sully.
His hair is a mess, and he looks distraught.
“Can you come help us?” he begs. “Dad’s really sick.”
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