Page 65 of Fired at the Heart

And for the first time in five years, I let myself believe it.

Raphael straightens away from me, and the loss of his touch comes as a physical pain in my heat-addled state. I strain toward him, a whimper escaping my throat, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. I want you to see what you do to me.” He pops the button on his slacks, then moves to his zipper, lowering it with a deliberate slowness that drives me to the edge of frustration.

“Hurry,” I plead, my body burning with need.

Shifting, he pushes his pants down, and his heavy cock springs free, glistening with pre-cum. My mouth waters at the sight, and I lift my hips off the bed in desperate invitation.

“Look at what’s yours.” His hand wraps around his thick shaft. “What’s always been yours.”

The possessive flip in his words, acknowledging that he belongs to me as much as I belong to him, sends a fresh wave of slick between my legs. I squirm on the bed, desperate for contact.

“Please, Alpha,” I gasp, beyond shame or pretense. “Need you inside me.”

He finishes removing his pants, baring his body to me for the first time in years.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, the words escaping before I can think to hold them back.

His expression softens for a heartbeat before hunger replaces it. He climbs back onto the bed, positioning himself between my spread legs. He grips my thighs, pushing them wider, exposing me.

“So wet for me.” He runs a finger through the slick coating my entrance. “So ready.”

“Yes.” I arch toward him. “Ready. Please.”

He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me but not breaching. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I say without hesitation. “Want you. Only you.”

He pushes forward, the tip entering me, and we both groan at the sensation.

“Mine,” he growls, driving deeper, and my toes curl at the delicious burn of being stretched open.

“Yours,” I agree, my hands clutching the sheets.

Inch by inch, his cock pushes into my body until he sheaths himself, then pauses, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. This isn’t the frantic coming together of our last two encounters, rushed and barely enjoyed before it ended.

Now, he lets me revel in the fullness, the perfect fit of him within me, exactly what my Heat-driven body craves.

“Move.” I roll my hips to take him deeper. “Please, Raphael.”

The sound of his name on my lips breaks his control. He pulls back and slams forward, setting a punishing pace that has me clawing at the sheets. Each thrust hits perfectly, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine.

“Fuck,” I gasp, my head falling back as he pounds into me. “Yes, just like that.”

He grips my hips, lifting me to change the angle. The new position has him hitting my prostate with every thrust, and I can’t contain the sounds falling from my lips, whimpers and moans that would embarrass me if I were capable of shame right now.

“That’s it,” he encourages, body shaking with the effort of maintaining his rhythm. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Harder.” I wrap my legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

His thrusts become more forceful, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. The bed creaks beneath us, the headboard hitting the wall with the force of his movements.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he praises, his eyes roaming over my sweat-slicked body. “Like you were made for my cock.”

It’s true. We fit together, two halves made whole again. The pleasure builds and builds, a coiling tension in my core that threatens to snap with each thrust.

“Close,” I moan as he nails my prostate again.

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