Page 70 of Devoured
He shuddered.
He grabbed my wrist—not to stop me. Just to feel it. The contact.
“Touching me like that,”he rasped, breath catching against the metal, “you don’t know what you’re inviting.”
“I do.”
His breath hitched. One hand went to my cheek. The other wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding it toward my entrance. He rubbed the head against my slit—slow, messy strokes that spread my slick along his ridges. Teasing. But also preparing me.
Still, the stretch would be brutal.
He positioned himself at my opening. I could feel him—the sheer size of him—pressing right where I pulsed hardest. I tensed, hips twitching.
He caught my jaw and turned my face toward him, forcing me to look into his burning eyes.
“Breathe,”he ordered.
“I am.”
“No,”he said. “You’re bracing.”
Then his hips pushed forward.
My body resisted—then gave.
Just the head. It already felt like too much. My fingers clawed at the bone table, spine arching as the blunt pressure filled me with fire. There was pain but not enough to stop. Just enough to remind me what it meant to be taken.
“That’s it,”he whispered, voice low and ragged. “You’re doing perfect.”
He slid in another inch.
I moaned—high, desperate.
He groaned in return, the sound vibrating through the helmet. “Tighter than I imagined. Hotter. Like you were made for this.”
I clutched his forearms. “It’s—God—it’s too—”
“I know. But you can take it. I’ll help you.”
His hand slipped down between us. His thumb found my clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles as he sank deeper. The tension snapped. My body loosened—and he seized the moment.
With one long, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
The stretch ripped a scream from my throat. He leaned in, helmet brushing my cheek in an attempt to calm me.
“You’re mine now,”he growled. “Every inch. Every sound. Every tremble.”
And when he pulled back and drove into me again—harder, deeper—I believed him.
He stayed inside me for a heartbeat that stretched into eternity. His cock throbbed against my walls, every ridge forcing me to feel all of him. My cunt clenched around him, struggling to keep up, and the way he shuddered made it clear—he felt everything.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first. Just enough to make me feel the drag, the friction, the ache deep inside. My hands slid to his waist, gripping as his hips rolled forward again, grinding against my pelvis with punishing rhythm.
He fucked me like he was carving something into me.
“Do you feel that?”he rasped, voice shaking as he drew nearly all the way out, then slammed back in. “That stretch? That burn? That’s your body learning who owns it.”
