14
Henry
Islid into Freya, and the sensation enveloped me like nothing else. Her warmth, her softness—it felt like I was home. My breath hitched, a guttural sound escaping my throat. Her body arched beneath me, and her nails scraped my back, leaving trails of fire.
Her ankles locked around my lower back, pressing me deeper into her. The intensity of the connection between us made my pulse race. Each movement, each shift in our rhythm, sent shockwaves through me. I tightened my grip on her hips, feeling her skin warm under my touch.
“Henry,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
The way she said my name stirred something primal inside me. I leaned in closer, pressing my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. Her eyes fluttered open and met mine, wide and vulnerable.
Every inch of me was alive with sensation—her legs wrapped around me, the feel of her nails digging into my flesh, her rapid heartbeat echoing mine. I wanted to lose myself in her completely, to let go of everything else but this moment.
The tension between us built higher and higher until it felt like we would both shatter from the intensity. Her grip on me tightened as if she could pull me even closer.
And then we were moving together, a frantic dance that neither of us could control. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only Freya and the way she made me feel—whole and raw and entirely alive.
I didn't expect it to feel like this with her. In fact, I was almost angry it did feel like this. Every part of me was consumed by the sensation, and the anger mixed with something deeper, something I couldn't quite name. It was infuriating how much I wanted her, needed her.
I didn't even know why I started this in the first place. Was it to teach her a lesson? To take back some control? My reasons seemed to dissolve in the heat of the moment, in the feel of her body against mine. None of it mattered anymore.
All that mattered was this moment, being inside of her, claiming her. The connection between us felt unbreakable, like a bond forged in fire. I could see the same intensity reflected in her eyes, defiance and desire that mirrored my own turmoil.
Freya's breath came in short gasps, and each one sent a shiver down my spine. Her fingers tightened on my shoulders, grounding me in this reality where nothing existed but us. The world outside faded away until it was just our shared heat and desperate movements.
Deep down, I knew that now that I'd had her; I didn't want anyone else. The thought lodged itself firmly in my mind, refusing to budge. She had become a part of me in ways I hadn't anticipated, and the realization both thrilled and terrified me.
Her body moved beneath mine with an urgency that matched my own. Each thrust brought us closer together, erasing any distance that had once separated us. The rhythm we found wasprimal and instinctual, driven by a need that neither of us could deny.
Freya's voice broke through the haze, a soft moan that echoed in my ears and sent another jolt of electricity through me. It spurred me on, making me push harder, wanting to elicit more sounds from her lips.
"Henry," she whispered again, and the way she said my name made something inside me snap. It wasn't just about control anymore; it was about claiming what was already mine.
Every muscle in my body tightened as we moved together faster and faster, the world narrowing down to just our shared breaths and heartbeats. The intensity built higher until it felt like we were on the edge of something vast and unstoppable.
"Say it again," I growled, the words rough in my throat. "Say my name."
Freya's eyes met mine, clouded with lust, her lips parted as if the air had been knocked out of her.
"Who's fucking you?" I demanded, my voice a low rumble.
She remained silent, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
I thrust harder, the force of it causing her head to bump against the wall. "Who's fucking you?" I asked again, my tone unyielding.
"You are," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
A smile curved on my lips. "And who am I?"
"Henry," she said, the name slipping from her mouth like a confession.
I drove into her harder, deeper, and she gasped, the sound reverberating between us. "I know you want to come all over my cock," I said, my breath hot against her ear. "I'll pull out if you don't answer the question."
She glared at me then, pure loathing in her eyes. Good. Now she knew what it felt like.
"Who am I to you?" I asked, pressing her for more.
"My husband," she whispered.