Page 8 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
He stays still, buried only halfway, giving me time to adjust.
His grip softens, fingers loosening just enough as one hand moves to cradle my face.
His thumb traces along my cheekbone while I breathe against his mouth, each exhale catching on the tension between us.
"Breathe, Aria."
I listen.
I let the heat ground me.
Little by little, the sharpness gives way to something fuller, something molten and unbearably deep.
He thrusts again, slow and steady, sliding further in.
I gasp, my fingers clenching around his arms as the pressure intensifies and reshapes itself into a burn that is no longer pain.
When he finally sinks in completely, thick and hard and so deep I can hardly hold the sound in my throat, my body responds with a pulse, tightening around him like I was made to keep him there.
He groans low against my skin, the sound rough and barely restrained. "Christ. You feel like heaven."
I feel undone.
Stretched open and filled in ways that make it impossible to remember where I end and he begins.
He starts to move, pulling out slowly, dragging every inch before driving back in with more force.
The pain dulls with each thrust, replaced by something heavier, wetter, more consuming.
I gasp as he fills me again, thick and hard, the stretch still intense but no longer unbearable.
My breath stutters against his mouth.
My hands claw down his back, nails catching on sweat-slicked skin.
My moans rise as he fucks me into the stone, every thrust deep, his cock rubbing hard against the spot that makes my legs shake.
"More," I whisper, the word broken and breathless. "Please."
He growls low in his chest and gives it to me.
His hips slam forward, harder and deeper, the sound of it delicious, wet, constant.
His hand finds my throat, his palm settling there with just enough pressure to keep me still, to hold me in place while my body rocks beneath his.
Every muscle in me tightens in response, my walls clenching tighter around him with every stroke.
He drops his mouth to my shoulder and bites, not softly.
My thighs lock tighter around his waist.
I feel the tension curling low in my belly, winding itself with every thrust, every grind of his pelvis against mine.
His cock drives in hard and fast, hitting so perfectly that I can barely breathe.
"Touch yourself," he says, voice rough and unsteady. "I want to feel you come."
I slide my hand between us, fingers finding my clit, already swollen and throbbing.
