We both groan, the sound raw and needy. She’s tight—so tight—and her body stretches around me, her inner walls clenching like a fist. I bury myself to the hilt, my hips flush against hers, and for a moment, I just breathe.
She feels perfect. Better than perfect.
“Phil,” she whispers, her legs wrapping around my waist, her heels digging into my arse. “Move. Please.”
I do.
I pull back slowly, savouring the drag of her body against mine, the way her nails score down my back as I sink into her again. Her breath hitches, her lips parting on a silent moan, and I do it again. And again. Each thrust deep and measured, my cock dragging against her walls, her wetness coating me, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.
Her hands are everywhere—gripping my shoulders, raking down my back, tangling in my hair as I kiss her, my mouth crashing against hers. She kisses me back just as desperately, her tongue tangling with mine, her moans spilling into my mouth.
I can feel her getting closer again, her body tightening around me, her breath coming in sharp, needy gasps.
“Phil… I’m close again. So close.”
“Do it,” I growl, my voice rough. “Let me feel you.”
She does. With a cry, her body clenches around me, her back lifting off the bed as her orgasm crashes over her. The pulse of her walls around my cock is too much—I can’t hold back.
With a groan, I bury myself deep and come, my release spilling inside her in hot, thick pulses. She whimpers, her body milking me, drawing out every last drop until I’m spent, my forehead pressed to hers, our breath mingling between us.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. I’m still inside her, my cock softening slowly, her legs still wrapped around me. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my back, her touch light, almost reverent.
I lift my head just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes are soft, her lips swollen from my kisses, and when she smiles, it’s like the sun breaking through clouds.
“Hey,” she murmurs.
“Hey,” I answer, my voice rough.
She reaches up, her thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “That was…”
“I know,” I say, because there are no words for this. For her.
She pulls me down for another kiss, slow and deep, her tongue sliding against mine. And as I kiss her back, my hand finding hers, our fingers intertwining, I realise something:
For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of what comes next.
Because whatever it is… I want it with her.
Chapter 10
Christina
Iwake slowly, awareof warmth before anything else.
Not the distant, ambient kind that belongs to a heated room, but something closer. Specific. The solid heat of another body pressed against mine, the steady rise and fall of his breathing at my back.
For a moment, I don’t move. I let myself stay suspended in that quiet space between sleep and memory, where sensation exists without explanation.
His arm is wrapped around my waist, heavy and secure. His hand rests flat against my stomach, fingers spread wide like they settled there in the night and never found a reason to leave.
When I shift slightly, his grip tightens. Not asleep. Just slow to surface.
Memory returns in pieces. His mouth on mine in the dark. The careful way he touched me at first, like he didn’t trust himself with the reality of me. The slow disappearance of that restraint, replaced by something surer. Hungrier. The way he said my name like it mattered.
And later.
I had woken with my head on his chest, the room dark and quiet. He’d been tracing lazy circles along my back, fully awake, listening to my breathing as if it were something worth studying.