Page 15 of Sexted By a Stranger
I swallowed, meeting his gaze. "I want this," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I want you."
His eyes softened, and he kissed me again, slower this time, his hands stroking my sides, grounding me. "I've got you," he murmured against my lips.
He eased into me, slow and careful, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. The stretch burned, and I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. He froze, his jaw tight. "You're-you're a virgin?" His voice was thick with surprise, but there was no judgment, only care.
I nodded, biting my lip. "Is that okay?"
"Okay?" He let out a shaky laugh, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Fuck, Sheila, it's more than okay. I just-I'll be gentle."
Anticipation surged, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free. He gazed down at me, eyes full of tenderness and restrained desire, silently checking in. I nodded slightly, biting my lip to hide my nerves.
True to his word, he moved with utmost care, inching forward, giving me time to adjust. Each small movement was measured, his eyes never leaving my face, watching for any sign of discomfort. The pain faded, replaced by a strange fullness and a growing warmth that spread through me. His hands slid to my waist, gripping softly. His fingers sank into the curves there, like he wanted to memorize the feel of me.
When he was fully inside, he paused, kissing my forehead, letting me catch my breath. I could feel the faint tremor in his body, his restraint evident. His gentleness let me relax completely, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting all of him. His eyes locked on mine, almostreverent, and then he began to move—slow, steady, each thrust gentle but deliberate, like he was afraid to overwhelm me.
Our bodies found a rhythm, fitting together like they were made for each other. Each deep thrust hit a spot inside me that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through my core, drawing soft moans from my lips. My fingers dug into his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles. He leaned down, kissing me, his tongue mirroring the rhythm below, stealing my breath. His hands never left my waist, gripping tightly, fingertips leaving faint marks, like he wanted to claim me completely.
The pleasure built like a rising tide, intense and unstoppable. I called his name, my voice shaky and desperate. He was holding back, sweat beading on his forehead, veins standing out on his neck. "Baby, come with me," he growled, his voice a mix of command and pleading. My body tightened, clinging to him, and as he thrust deep one more time, I fell apart, a wave of ecstasy crashing over me. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, my body shaking. He followed right after, a low groan escaping as he shuddered, releasing inside me. We trembled together, locked in each other's arms, sweat and heat mingling until the intensity finally ebbed.
He didn't pull away right away, instead kissing me softly, lingering, like he needed to savor the moment. I was breathless, my body limp, completely spent, nestled against him.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, our breathing slowing. He brushed a damp strand of hair from my face, his touch tender, like I was something precious. "You were incredible," he whispered, voice full of awe and satisfaction. "Hang on a sec."
I watched, curious, as he stepped out of the room. Later, when he returned with a warm cloth to clean me up, I felt a strange sense of vulnerability. His hands moved with a deliberate slowness, the warm cloth gliding over my skin as he cleaned me with a tenderness that made my chest ache. Thisman, this dangerous, powerful man, was treating me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
Chapter 6
Sheila
Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains onto the bed as consciousness slowly returned. The first thing I sensed was that reassuring warmth wrapped around me, and the steady, powerful heartbeat.
I blearily opened my eyes to find Luca's broad chest filling my vision. His healthy, tanned skin, solid pecs—everything about him radiated masculine power. His scent dominated every breath I took.
I jolted fully awake as last night's memories came flooding back.
Those scorching kisses, his calloused fingers igniting fires across my skin, and that mind-blowing sex.
My cheeks instantly burned. My body instinctively tried to spring away from his embrace, but the arm wrapped around my waist held firm.
"Up already?" His deep voice rumbled from above.
I looked up. He seemed to have been awake for a while. Sunlight played across his chiseled profile, outlining near-perfect contours.
He held one of my design sketches from the nightstand, studying it with apparent fascination.
"You're looking at that first thing in the morning?" I asked, confused.
He didn't answer, just held the thin paper, index finger landing on the Starlight sketch's cutting line notation. "Asscher cut's a bold move." Then tapped a single graphite stroke. "Here—peel back 0.2mm. Let the angles bite."
"Sheila, you have talent. Very special talent." His voice was low, carrying genuine recognition.
"Really?" My voice shot up as I unconsciously leaned forward. "See, here I originally envisioned using rose gold as the base, but—"
Cold air suddenly wrapped around my naked body. My excited words cut off abruptly. Last night's passion had left scattered red marks that were now exposed in the morning light. I gasped, frantically grabbing for the sheets to cover myself.
Too late.
The appreciation in Luca's eyes darkened into burning heat. A muffled growl rolled from his throat as his arm suddenly tightened—the world spun, and I found myself pinned between the soft mattress and his scorching, rock-hard chest.
