Page 95 of Claimed By the Enemy
“I could watch you like this forever,” he says.
And God, the way he says it undoes me.
He kisses my neck, then my collarbone. His tongue flicks the shell of my ear again, and I whimper.
“Dom…”
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”
I fall apart under the gentle pressure of his fingers and the fire in his gaze, already trembling with need, already aching for more.
When his fingers slip away, I make a soft sound of protest, already missing the fullness, the connection.
But he’s moving carefully now, shifting to remove the last of our clothes. When he slides my underwear down my legs, he kisses the inside of my knee like it’s sacred.
Then he peels off his own.
He moves between my legs, his weight supported on his forearms as he hovers above me. He presses his forehead to mine.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” he says.
“It won’t,” I whisper. “I need you.”
His hand finds mine, fingers lacing tight as he pushes inside me, giving me every inch. My breath hitches. The stretch is perfect. Full. My legs wrap around his waist without thought, pulling him closer.
He exhales shakily, like the feeling of being inside me takes the strength right out of him.
“You feel like home,” he murmurs.
We stay like that for a long moment. Joined. Breathing each other in.
Then he begins to move.
His lips brush my cheek, my jaw, my mouth. I hold onto him, fingers digging into his back, my body arching to meet him.
He whispers things against my skin. Words I can’t quite process because the pleasure is too much, too full, too deep. But I feel the meaning in the way he touches me. Like I’m the only thing that matters. Like there’s no past, no betrayal, no blood feuds—only this.
Only us.
Our bodies stay pressed close. Every movement is more like a wave than a thrust. A slow, rising tide pulling me under. I press kisses to his shoulder, his throat, tasting the salt of his skin. He grinds deeper, just once, and I cry out softly.
His hand moves to cup the back of my head. Our foreheads touch again.
“I love you,” he says, so quietly it’s almost a breath.
“I love you,” I whisper back. “So much.”
The coil inside me tightens, and I feel him grow heavier, more erratic. His voice breaks as he says my name. I hold him tighter.
“I’m there,” I gasp. “Dom, I—”
“Come for me,” he says.
And I do. The world narrows to nothing but the slide of his body inside mine and the way he watches me fall apart.
He follows seconds later, a shudder running through him as he spills into me, his face buried in my neck.
We stay like that, limbs tangled, hearts thundering, breaths shallow.
