Page 175 of Surprisingly Us

“You need to breathe, Lettie,” he says, his voice calm and reassuring. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I focus on my breathing again, but when he presses between my legs, I start to feel a burning sensation. He rocks into me, and my muscles clamp down hard. I can see the strain on Rhys’s face. It’s not easy for him either.

“I’m convinced it’s going to hurt no matter what, so maybe just do it quick.” My hands are gripping his shoulders, my nails clawing into his bronzed skin. “Like a band-aid, you know?”

A small smile pulls at his lips, and he nods knowingly. Then, he drops his mouth to mine.

His kiss is sweet and gentle. His thrust between my thighs is not.

That burns.

Another subtle shift of his hips and he presses in farther.

“Let me in, Lettie. I want you to feel every inch of me.”

“I feel every inch. There’s no way there can be more. I’m so full. And it’s so tight, if I orgasm, I’m going to break your dick.”

He chuckles lightly. “Whenyou orgasm, you’re not going to break anything.”

His words relax me. I thought I had been relaxed but I was still holding tension between my legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He pants.

“Oh, no. Did I break your dick?”

“No, that’s my way of communicating that being inside you is the best fucking feeling in the world.”

He huffs.

It takes a minute, but once I’ve adjusted to him, he starts to move. I expect it to be long strokes in and out, but it’s more of a deeper press in, a roll of his hips as he finds and moves against the most tender spot inside me, fucking me so gently that I know I’m going to come fast. It’s not only his cock worshipping me, but his hands caressing every inch of my skin, his mouth lickingand teasing me, all of it perfectly orchestrated to bring me to the edge.

“Rhys.”

“Let go, Princess. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

His words have me climaxing hard. I clench down as my orgasm pulls Rhys’s cock deeper inside me.

“God damn.” A moment later, Rhys pulls out of me, and with a final stroke from his hand his cum paints my stomach. I stare at the warm, opaque liquid, fascinated. When I shift to sit up, a bead starts to slide down my side.

“Hold on. I’ll get a washcloth to clean you up.”

I watch Rhys leave, his still-hard cock jutting up toward his stomach and his firm glutes contracting with every step.

That’s when I spot the pink splotches on his new white duvet.

“Told you white wasn’t a good option,” I say when he walks back into the room, wet washcloth in hand.

He picks up a rose petal.

“That’s not you. That’s the rose petals.”

“Oh.”

Rhys gently wipes the warm washcloth between my legs, and it feels wonderful. While everything after the initial thrust had felt good, I can tell I’m going to be sore.

When he’s done with me, he uses the washcloth to clean himself up.

“Now, that’s you.”

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