𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇-𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋. A sound ripped from some primal depth he hadn’t known existed inside him; and perhaps it hadn't always, perhaps it was ignited for her and her alone. Her plea honest to God could’ve killed him right there. The way her voice trembled on the words, the way she looked at him, the way she touched him — it all sent a lightning strike of arousal through every vein, so pure and intense Jack's vision momentarily blurred. And then her hand moved, that sinful, exploratory dance along his aching hardness, and he was lost, restraint and sanity utterly ruined. He was still shivering, reeling from the gloriously divine sight of her coming apart so fiercely and wildly beneath his tongue; her thighs clamped around his head, her cries like sacred music, her release flooding his mouth like the sweetest honey he'd ever had. It had undone him too, left him painfully hard, hips bucking and twitching in blind, instinctive search of any friction at all, his cock pulsing against her silken palm. Every inch of him was burning up with fevered desire; his skin taut over muscle and bone, nerves singing with the bliss of having taken her to those golden heights. And so, her touch alone threatened to hurl him straight over the edge before he’d even had the chance to sink inside her. The thought of it made him groan low and desperate. His gaze devoured as it raked over her face; damp with sweat, flushed and intoxicated with pleasure, lips parted on soft, helpless sounds while she writhed beneath him. The sight detonated something holy in his chest, something impossibly vast and reverent.
He loved this woman. God, he loved her. He couldn’t say when it had begun; maybe the first brutal shift they’d ever worked together, when her brilliance cut through the chaos like sunlight through dark clouds. But it was there now, nestled deeply, consuming him in the sweetest way. This radiant, strong, impossibly beautiful woman who somehow gazed up at him as though he, with all his ghosts and baggage, was worthy of her. His heart leapt in his chest, a wild and powerful thing that galloped without abandon. Then she moved her hand again, applying that gentle, devastating pressure along his throbbing shaft, and a guttural moan tore free from him. He licked his lips, still tasting her, growing increasingly ravenous on the evidence of her pleasure.
❛ Fuck, Samira . . . baby, that's a dangerous game . . . ❜ He said in half-groan, half-chuckle, sparks searing every stretch of skin, pleasure coiling tight at the base of his spine. Insatiable, Jack dove down to claim her mouth in a kiss that was possessive and savouring; devouring yet achingly tender, tongue finding hers in a slow glide that coaxed a delighted hum from his throat. He moved to kiss along the line of her neck, lingering long enough to mark her with a graze of his teeth — a shiver cascading down his own spine, his hips jerking instinctively into her hand. She could easily undo him like this, but Jack craved her, craved above all else to satisfy every need singing through her body. So with one palm braced hard against the mattress for anchorage, the other drifted down to curl gently around hers, peeling her fingers away from his leaking hardness so that he could position himself where they both needed him most. Somewhere in the distant haze of his mind he thought of pausing, of reaching for a condom, but the memory that she was on birth control crashed over him like a wave of pure, lust-drunk relief; he thanked whatever divine power might still listen with a symphony of filthy moans pressed into her skin.
❛ Breathe in, sweetheart, ❜ he rasped, voice rough at the edges yet no less tender as he slowly, gently brushed the swollen crown of his cock between her impossibly slick folds. Breath shattered in his chest as he teased the glistening seam of her without yet surrendering, the effortless slide of him along her so intoxicating, so holy, that his heart thundered madly within his ribcage. He twitched and pulsed in his own grasp, every drop of blood in his body suffused with her, singing her name, begging him to sheathe. ❛ Tell me if it hurts, okay? Tell me if you want to stop. Breathe—❜ Swept in a whirlwind of sensation so intense it sent another violent shudder through his body, Jack slowly, carefully, buried himself in the sanctum of her; mindful through the explosion of pleasure, always attuned to her, always listening to the way her body responded. He eased his girth through the tight, glorious grip of her warmth inch by inch, and a groan ripped from his chest like claws raking up his throat. His vision blurred; he was dizzy, scorched, seeing stars. She was so warm, so sinfully wet that sheathing himself had been obscenely effortless, and he sank deeper until he heard that sweet, glorious hitch of her breath.
❛ Fuck. Fuck, fuck. That's my girl—christ, you feel so good, baby. ❜ he breathed, forehead dropping to the crook of her neck with an incredulous, breathless chuckle; every ounce of his strength siphoned into restraint so he wouldn’t spill right then like a man who’d never known control. He stayed still for a long moment, letting her adjust, letting himself breathe through the immense pleasure. ❛ You alright? ❜ he asked in a low rasp, lifting his head to search her eyes with meticulous care. On the heel of her reassurance, Jack surrendered entirely, becoming sensation itself. He began to move in measured, languid thrusts that never pulled him out completely from her trembling folds; drawing back enough to feel the exquisite friction of her walls clenching around him before sliding home again. His cock pulsed and twitched inside the molten grasp of her cunt, every ebb and flow savouring the heat that clutched him. The blunt press of his pelvic bone brushed rhythmically against her swollen clit with each measured roll of his hips, and the sounds she made in response sent sparks skittering along his very bones.
❛ You are so perfect, Samira. Look at you, look at how well you take me. ❜ Pleasure rolled through him in golden waves as he drank in the feeling of her: memorising the sounds she made, the way she trembled beneath him — it tightened low in his belly, tingling down his spine, setting every nerve alight. Those broken, needy little moans filled him with a fierce, protective pride that swelled behind his sternum; he listened to every hitch, every whimper, adjusting the angle and depth of each thrust until he coaxed the sweetest, most devastating notes from her throat. His hand found the underside of her thigh, lifting it ever so slightly, hooking it higher around his waist to allow a deeper angle that damn near destroyed his composire. The heavenly shift of it evoked a new moan from her that he wanted to bottle up and drink from for the rest of eternity. ❛ There? ❜ he murmured against her neck, ❛ Do you like that, baby? Don’t hold back, I want to hear everything. Tell me what feels good. Tell me where you need me. Is it nice when I bury my cock there . . . like this? ❜ He rolled his hips forward in a slow, grinding thrust to punctuate the question, burying himself to the hilt once more, and the guttural groan that tore from him was sinful worship incarnate.
