Page 61 of Savage Vows
She clenches around my fingers, a soft cry caught between her teeth.
“Look at me.” She does. I kiss her while I work her, lazy circles on her clit until her hips chase my hand. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want your cock,” she breathes.
I ease my fingers out and line up, the thick head nudging her entrance. I slowly enter her, her wet, tight cunt practically stealing my breath as I do.
Her breath hitches. Her fingers clamp on my shoulders. The stretch makes her brows knit, lips parting on a small, bitten-off sound. She looks…unsure. Uncomfortable.
I freeze, buried only an inch. “Hey.” My voice is low, steady. “Talk to me.”
She swallows, cheeks flushed. “It just…burns a little.”
Understanding hits me like a punch. I know the rumors, and frankly I didn’t give a damn. But now…knowing she belongs only to me gives birth to a wave of possessiveness.
I kiss her mouth, soft. “We go slow. We stop if you say stop.” I pull back a fraction, circle her clit with my thumb, lazy and sweet, easing the sting with pleasure. When she relaxes under me, I push a breath against her lips. “Breathe with me.”
She nods, eyes on mine. In, out. Her body softens by degrees.
I glide in another inch. She tenses; I still. My thumb never leaves her clit—gentle circles, patient, coaxing. I kiss her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and whisper, “Good girl. That’s it. You’re doing perfect.”
Her grip loosens. A shaky exhale. “More,” she whispers.
I inch deeper, stopping each time her breath catches, waiting it out, stroking her clit until the tight ache blooms into heat. The ripped red dress is bunched at her waist, her tits bare and flushed against my chest; I kiss one, suck lightly until her back arches and the pain melts into a needy little moan.
“Okay?” I ask, forehead to hers.
“Yes,” she says, surer now. “Keep going.”
I sink in the rest of the way, slow as prayer, until I’m seated fully inside her—held hot and tight, her pussy gripping me like a fist. We both groan. I don’t move. I just let her feel me while my thumb draws soft circles that make her hips start to tilt—testing, welcoming.
“God, you feel amazing,” I breathe, kissing her deep, letting her taste the truth in it.
“Move,” she whispers against my mouth.
I pull almost all the way out and then slide back in, a long, careful stroke. Another. Her breath turns from tight little catches into soft, broken sighs. The discomfort is gone. What’s left is heat and want and the slick, perfect drag of her body opening for me.
“Right there,” she gasps when I angle my hips. I keep it slow, sweet, spicy at the edges—thumb steady on her clit, cock stroking deep but gentle, every thrust a promise: I’ve got you.
She clutches me closer, eyes shining. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” I murmur, kissing her as I move—patient, greedy, worshipful, and her tight little whimpers melt into the kind of sounds I’ll chase for the rest of my life.
I keep the rhythm unhurried, rolling my hips so she feels every inch and nothing that hurts. Her nails bite my shoulders, then soften, then clutch again when I angle just right.
“More,” she whispers, breath warm against my mouth. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah?” I kiss her. “Tell me if that changes.”
I slide a hand under her knee and hitch her leg higher over my hip. The shift lines us up and her gasp punches into my chest. I hit that spot again—slow, deep—and her thighs tense around me.
“Right there,” she breathes.
I grind there, steady, my thumb circling her clit, my cock dragging in that slick, tight heat that feels like a fist around me. Her face opens—hesitation gone—eyes glossy, lips wet from my mouth. I take a nipple between my lips and suck until her back bows, her tit pushed into my hand, and the little sound she makes is half sob, half need.
“Harder,” she whispers.
I keep my forehead to hers so she can see me, feel me, know I’m right here.
