He looks at me like I’m the only woman alive, as though a bomb could decimate the world outside and we’d still be safe in here, just him and me, my man, my savior.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
To save me, he’d have to know the truth.
And even if I’m planning on telling him, I haven’t yet.
Maybe when I do, everything will change.
“Fuck, you look so perfect right now,” he growls, leaning close to me, closer. “But I can’t be romantic, not with my manhood roaring at me to take you, to plunge hotly into your virgin pussy and fire my seed straight into your womb. So I’m sorry, Melody.”
“Sorry for what—”
I giggle crazily when he picks me up, something I’ll never get used to no matter how many times he does it. It’s the ease with which he handles me that always surprises me, as though I don’t weigh so much more than the so-called regular women.
He cradles me close to his chest and then places me down on the red silk sheets.
I turn so that I’m lying on my back, just in time for Mason to lower himself atop me, supporting himself with one hand and smoothing the other up my jeaned thigh. His palm burns through the denim with his passion, leaving a trailing mark the closer he gets to my sex.
I feel my nerves draining away as we kiss, our tongues swirling, sinking deeper and deeper into our enflamed passion.
And then something snaps in us and we can’t hold ourselves back anymore.
Through the kiss, our hands are all over each other, stripping away clothes. As I tug at his shirt buttons, and then eventually lose patience and just tear them free, I realize that Mason was right.
All we have to do is let go.
Our bodies know what to do.
All those times I’ve felt anxiety creeping into me at the thought that I’m a twenty-one year old virgin, all the self-doubt, all the insecurity, none of it matters with our bodies pressed close and our passion steering into the storm of our lust.
I gaze at him as he stands up to tear his pants off, the only part of him that is still clothed.
His body looks as if it’s carved from stone, every line of muscle cut hard and certain, his abs a giant block of muscle with each pack a solid gradation.
Then he pulls his pants down and his manhood springs up, so large and throbbing my hand flies over my mouth to stop a shocked scream from escaping.
He’s huge.
I don’t have a freaking measuring tape with me, but ten inches, eleven? The head is engorged and he’s so hard that his entire weighty length points almost straight up. A vein runs up the side, pulsing, needing.
I lie here, naked, the air pricking at my bare, soaked sex, staring between my open knees at my giant-cocked man.
“Fuck, Mason.”
He smirks cockily.
“Yeah, that was the plan.”
“Dick,” I giggle.
He nods down at his manhood as he steps forward.
“Aren’t you observant?”
Our mirth drains away and things get serious again when he lies over the top of me, moving one hand to my breasts, and then twisting my nipples softly, but enough to make it buzz and tingle.
The sensation causes tendrils of sizzling euphoria to whisper through me, smoothing down through my belly, into my womb, as though by rubbing my hardening nipples he’s getting my body ready to greedily swallow up his rushing seed.
“These fucking tits,” he snarls, leaning down to suck one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. “They’ll be heavy with milk soon. Will you give me a taste?”
“Maybe if you ask nicely,” I whimper, voice catching under the force of the pleasure.
“I don’t know if I can,” he growls. “Not with you so naked and wet and sexy. Fuck, I can’t hold back anymore.”
He leans up, his shoulders large boulders as they catch the glittering chandelier light.
Reaching down, he grabs his manhood and guides it to my aching, soaked opening.
But even aching and soaked I feel a sweet kissing stab as he slides up inside of me, the walls of my pussy twinging as his giant girth fills me. I bite down, staring up at him through hazy eyes, terrified that this is it, the moment it all comes crashing down.
I won’t be able to take him, and really, that’s a pretty big problem in a relationship – are we in a relationship? – as passionate as ours.
He stares into my eyes, his lips a tight line as he inches deeper and deeper, his eyes swirling with the tightness of my body around his length.
“God,” he groans.
“Oh, oh,” I say, at the same moment.
We both feel it, the instance my pussy relaxes, as though my womb is letting me know that it’s time to take him, all of him.
He slides out and I let out a moan, the sensation like nothing I’ve ever experienced, as though we’re melting into each other, as though the heat between my legs is the first stage of a transformation.
I reach up and grab his shoulders, holding tightly onto the muscle, feeling my fingernails bend against the hardness of them.
He thrusts into me with more force, making a groaning sound near the back of his throat, like a wild wolf who’s finally found his long-awaited mate.
Me.
The silk sheets rub smoothly against my ass as I begin to shift my hips, sinking into the rhythm, any sense of discomfort completely disappearing with the movements.
We stare into each other’s eyes as he begins to pump with the fury of a warlord, as though this is three hundred years ago and he’s just conquered my village.
And now he’s taking what’s his.
Me.
His prize.
I clasp his face in my hands, framing those penetrating icy eyes, and grind my hips down the length of him, feeling every inch, every heated point of contact between us.
He was so freaking right before – it’s sizzling, burning, flourishing within
