Page 68 of Savage Protector

“It’ll be fine,” he assures me. “Trust me.”

The drill is the same as before, and, well trained, I do my part without thinking. The crown of his cock enters me, and my body stretches helpfully to accommodate it.

“We’ll go slow, like before.”

Yay!

He inches forward, each cautious stroke taking him deeper into me. His hands are under my hips, holding me still as he advances.

I’m close to asking him to stop. No body stretches this far, it’s simply not possible. Any second now I’ll just split in two, and that will be that.

“Zayn,” I plead. “I… I can’t…”

He pauses again, waits for me. And, astonishingly, it’s enough. The sense of burning recedes. I’m full, ridiculously so, but able to continue. I manage to say so.

The relentless pressure starts again. It seems easier now; perhaps I’m becoming accustomed to it.

“There. That’s it. Well done.”

Is it…? I mean, are you…?”

“I am, and it’s glorious. You’re so tight.”

“I know that much,” I reply with feeling.

“Now for the fun bit.”

Is there one?

He rocks his hips to withdraw an inch or two, then slides back. I feel every tingle of the friction, but it isn’t painful anymore. Not quite pleasurable either. But he does have my undivided attention.

He withdraws again, a little further this time, then fills me again. And again.

Each stroke is more…more penetrating than the one before. My body relaxes, settles into the soft rhythm.

And pleasure starts. It begins with tentative tendrils, whispering softly from my core, gathering pace, growing.

“Aagh,” I moan. That’s so…so…”

“And, now?” He reaches beneath me again to caress my clit.

My groan is louder, verging on a scream. The punch of sensation is a shock, startling in its intensity. The combination of stretching, pressure, and sweet intimacy is an overload to the senses, and I give myself over to it entirely.

As if I had any choice…

My orgasm is swift, powerful, and on me in moments. I don’t even have time to tell him, it’s just there. I’m thrusting back against him as eagerly as he fucks me, gasping my delight and riding the wave of ecstasy.

He lets out a shout, something obscene, I’m sure. His semen surges into me, hot and wet. A fleeting thought about the condom—or lack of it— drifts through my head, to be dismissed instantly. This is not the way to get pregnant, medical school taught me that if nothing else.

We lie together;both facedown on the mattress. The discarded flannel that Zayn used to clean me lies on the carpet, along with the dildo and the lube. For the first time since he returned, I think to check the time.

Almost six. It’s after sunrise, but it’s not yet entirely light. I roll over onto my side to face him.

“You must be exhausted. You were up all night.”

No reply. I peer more closely.

“Zayn?”

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