I don’t want to pull away. I don’t want to be the girl who stops at the edge and wonders what was on the other side.
I want to finallylive.
So, I sink down further.
A gasp tears out of me, and I stop for a few seconds, my thighs quivering as my body stretches around him.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his breath cool against my cheek.
“I will,” I promise, breathing through it as I continue lowering myself inch by inch.
When I finally take all of him, the fullness is so overwhelming that I have to stay still and center myself.
Slowly, the discomfort fades, replaced by the feeling of him inside me, filling spaces I didn’t know were empty. And when I look at him, I’m slammed with the feeling that he’s entered my soul as well as my mind.
This is what it feels like to be chosen.
“Avery.” He shudders beneath me, and a soft groan escapes him, like he’s fighting an internal war. “You can’t look at me like that and expect me to hold still.”
“Sorry.” My lungs tighten, and I start to look away.
His hand catches my chin, turning me back to face him.
“You don’t need to be sorry. I just want this to be good for you. And when you look at me like that, I forget how to think.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” The admission comes out quieter than I intended. “I want to make this good for you too, but I don’t know how.”
“You’re already—” He breaks off, then starts again. “I’m hanging on by a thread here, and you haven’t even moved yet.”
Oh.The meaning hits me, and warmth floods my cheeks. He’s that close already. Just from this. Just fromme.It takes a moment to process, because I don’t think I’ve ever affected someone this much in my life.
His eyes close, his hands flexing against my skin. He takes one breath, then another, slow and controlled, like he’s willing himself back from a ledge.
After a long moment, his eyes open, finding mine, and he gives me the smallest squeeze. “Okay. I’m ready.”
He says it like I’m the storm and he’s bracing for impact, and I can barely make sense of it, because nobody’s ever braced for me before.
But he is, and I’m not going to waste it.
So, I roll my hips experimentally, the sensation pulling a gasp from both of us. Then his hands are tightening on my waist, and he lifts me slightly and eases me back down, the slow drag of him inside me making my eyes flutter shut.
“There you go,” he says, each word sounding like it’s torn from him. “Just like that.”
His arms wrap around me, and when I roll my hips again, his groan vibrates through both of us.
From there, I let his hands guide me, my forehead resting on his, and slowly, I find a motion that makes heat build low in my stomach.
“Avery,” he breathes, my name sounding like a prayer. “You feel incredible.”
His teeth graze my shoulder, and I gasp, my hips stuttering.
“Don’t stop,” he says, sounding like he’ll die if I do. “Please, don’t stop.”
I don’t.
All thoughts leave my mind as the pressure builds, a slow, rolling wave that starts at the base of my spine and spreads outward. My movements get faster, chasing it, and he matches my rhythm, his hips rising to meet mine.
Then my whole body’s tightening as pleasure crashes through me, my vision going white at the edges, a cry tearing from my throat. I cling to him while he holds me through it, his arms wrapped around me as I collapse against his chest, trying to catch my breath.