Page 22 of Hollowed

“Again,” he said.

“Yours,” I moaned.

“Even if I never let you go?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I ruin you?”

“Please.”

He groaned into my throat.

And he began to fuck me in earnest.

No violence.

No rush.

Just deep, punishing reverence.

My legs wrapped around his waist.

My back arched off the cloth.

My mouth found his shoulder and bit.

And he didn’t stop.

He kept moving.

Until I shattered beneath him.

Until the ache in my belly turned molten.

Until my body shook and I sobbed his name.

He came with a growl.

Low. Broken. Sacred.

And collapsed into me.

He didn’t pull out.

He didn’t speak.

He stayed.

His mouth at my ear.

His hands still at my wrists.

His breath matching mine.

“You’re not my offering,” he said.

I turned my face to his.

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