Page 99 of When the Storm Breaks
His moan breaks against my lips. For a moment, he doesn’t move—just holds himself there, buried in me.
When he finally moves, each thrust is deep, deliberate, teasing out every inch, every stretch, coaxing gasps from my lips.
I cling to him, nails digging into his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath my palms.
And he snaps.
He drives into me harder, faster, deeper—every thrust raw, hungry, desperate.
“Fuck—look at you.” His forehead drops to mine, breath hot and uneven. “Taking me so fucking well.”
The room fills with us—skin against skin, broken moans, harsh breaths.
I wind tighter and tighter, a pressure so all-consuming it’s almost painful. I whimper, shaking beneath him.
“Haiyden, I can’t again—”
His hand moves between us, fingers finding my clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles.
“Yes, you can,” he says, voice desperate. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”
The coil inside me snaps.
It detonates through me, blinding. My body clenches around him, and he follows, lost with me in the wreckage.
He moans, ruined. “Fuck, Calla.”
His rhythm stumbles and falters, then turns frantic. Desperate. Primal. His breath falls heavy against my ear as his hips snap forward, each thrust erratic and fevered, drawing out every last pulse.
He kisses me. Hard.
His body tenses. A sharp inhale, a strangled moan. He drives deep, spilling into me, filling me completely.
The thought crashes into me:Mine.
Haiyden collapses against me, arms locking around me, holding me like he’s afraid to let me go.
For a long moment, we just breathe. Tangled together, damp skin, pulses syncing.
Nothing else exists. Only this.
Eventually, he shifts, rolling onto his side, taking me with him like it’s instinct. One arm stays wrapped around me, fingers sprawled across my lower back, the other buried in my hair.
I let myself curl into him. The steady rise and fall of his chest grounds me, and I adjust my breathing to match. His fingers move in slow, soothing circles, like touch is the only language he trusts.
He whispers against my forehead. “You did so good, baby.”
A shiver rakes through me. I don’t know if it’s from his voice, his lips brushing my hairline, or the way he said the words like he meant them.
His fingers move to tuck my hair behind my ear, thumb dragging gently along my cheek before slipping lower to trace the curve of myjaw.
His gaze burns into me, like he’s committing this moment to something deeper than memory.
I don’t know what it means.
But in his arms, like this, I’m certain of one thing: I love him.
And for the first time, I don’t need to overthink it. I don’t need to question it.
