Page 67 of Protecting the Nerd

“Same.” He swallowed. “Jesus, nerdy, I haven’t gone bare with anyone in…ever. You’ll be the first.”

I liked that. I liked that a lot.

He found my hand and laced our fingers as if weaving our mutual consent into something tangible. With a smile that held nothing but promises, he shifted, his movements purposeful yet unhurried as he opened the bedside drawer and retrieved a small bottle of lubricant.

I watched, fascinated, as he coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving mine. His look held a thousand unspoken vows, assurances of care and tenderness. I felt exposed yet safe under the intensity of his attention as I pulled up my legs and spread them.

“Relax,” he whispered as if reading the tension within me. He circled my hole with his slick fingertip, teasing, coaxing, pressing at the threshold of my body.

My breath hitched, and I focused on the ceiling. Breathe out, bear down. I’d read the advice online, wanting to be prepared. It was easier said than done, but I managed. Quillon was patient, slowly invading me and giving me plenty of time to adjust.

“Okay?” he asked, his probing softened by the concern etched in his brows.

“More than okay.” And it was the truth. The sting wasn’t unpleasant, already mixing with the promise of pleasure.

Quillon took his time and prepared me with a gentleness that belied the strength of his warrior hands. My body responded, opening and yielding to his expertise. He made what could have been clinical or even cold into something intimate and special as he watched my every reaction.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“We’ll go slow.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go anything but slow. Do you even have a different setting?”

He chuckled, a low, sexy sound. “You’ll find out one day…but not today.”

I spread my legs wider in a wordless invitation, and he moved closer, aligning his body with mine in a way that felt both new and achingly familiar, like it was meant to be. And that was coming from a man who didn’t believe in fate. This connection between us defied logic and rationality, but for once, I was okay with accepting what I couldn’t explain.

He pressed against me, and I let him in, surrendering to him in every way. I focused on breathing, on relaxing, on keeping my heart rate within healthy boundaries as he worked his way in. The first inch stung, but then the muscles loosened, and he slid in all the way.

The room contracted to the point where nothing existed beyond our intertwined forms. The sensation was profound—a slow, deep merging that echoed in my blood and bones.

“York,” he whispered against my lips, and my name on his tongue sparked a wildfire within me. “My sweet nerdy.”

The words rolled off my lips like I had said them a thousand times. “I love you.”

I hadn’t thought it possible, but his eyes softened even more. “I love you so very much.”

Another kiss, but this time as delicate as a feather, soft and sweet.

“I wanna feel you,” I said. “Let me feel you.”

The languid rhythm he set was a testament to his control, but it also leveled all the barriers I’d built. Each deliberate thrust knocked down another brick from my walls, leaving me exposed in ways I’d never been. But I was okay with that. I trusted Quillon.

The soft rustle of sheets, the slick slap of skin on skin, and the intimate chorus of our mingled moans crescendoed to a concert of our union. Every thrust brought a delicious sting, a burn that spread outward through my ass, where it transitioned into electric sparks of pleasure. My cock, which had flagged a bit, surged back to life, the unmistakable evidence my body was wholly on board. And how could it not be when I was being worshipped?

“Quillon.” I clutched his shoulders, grounding myself in the reality of his touch. Our movements synced, a push and pull that drew us closer together like we were truly one body now. I kissed his neck, acutely aware of the strength of his arms, the scent of his skin, the taste of salt. And beneath it all, the steady beat of his heart against mine, a reminder that this intimacy was more than physical.; it was a sharing of souls.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and I did. His darkened eyes reflected the naked intensity of my feelings, mirroring the surging emotions. Pleasure, yes, but also something more profound—a connection that bound me to him in a way that was entirely new.

“Quill…” I murmured as another wave of pleasure crested within me. He responded not with words but with a deepening of his caress, his hips guiding us toward a precipice I was all too willing to tumble over.

He encircled my cock, hard as a rod, and pumped me in the same steady rhythm as he was fucking me. I had to close my eyes to block out everything else and focus on all the sensations coursing through my body. I’d wanted to share this with Quillon, but I had never expected it would feel this good. Like my body was made to be merged with his.

The pleasure became so overwhelming my brain stopped working and went blissfully blank as my climax hit. I arched beneath him, lost in the storm, my body convulsing as my cock spurted out hot jets of cum over Quillon’s hand.

He never let his gaze waver from me, his needs set aside to shepherd me through the tempest. As aftershocks rippled through my frame, he quickened his pace, the energy within him building like a storm about to crash everything in its wake.

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