Page 51 of They Are Mine

I press my lips to his jaw, drag my teeth along his skin, whisper against his ear, “I need you. Now.”

And just like that?

Noah is gone.

He shoves his pants down, aligns himself, presses the thick head of his cock against my entrance.

And fuck.

I moan, arch, whimper, because he’s big, he’s stretching me already, and he hasn’t even pushed inside.

“Noah,” I whisper, tugging him down, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him closer.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

And then?

He slides inside.

Slow. Careful. Deep.

I gasp, my nails digging into his back, my body trembling around him.

He stills, breathing hard, shuddering against me.

“You feel…” His voice is hoarse, barely there. “Jesus Christ, Juliet.”

I cling to him, panting, overwhelmed, already ruined.

He fills me, stretches me, fits inside me like he was made for this.

And when he starts to move…

Oh.

He’s so slow.

So deep.

He rolls his hips, presses his forehead against mine, whispers my name like it’s a prayer.

He doesn’t thrust.

He worships.

Every movement is precise, controlled.

He takes his time.

He makes me feel every single inch of him.

And I fall apart beneath him.

I feel it in the way his breath stutters.

In the way his hips lose rhythm, his grip tightens, his jaw clenches like he’s trying to hold on just a little longer.

No.

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