Page 29 of Hollowed

I offered.

I waited.

And he moved like a man unraveling.

The blanket was gone in a second. Tossed aside like it offended him. His hands landed on the curve of my ass with weight. He didn’t caress. He gripped.

“You want it to hurt?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Then don’t run.”

I didn’t breathe.

I didn’t speak.

I held still.

And he pulled my hips higher.

My knees pressed into stone. My forearms bent, forehead to the robe beneath me. The air against my opening made me shiver.

He spread me with both hands. Wide. Reverent.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured.

I whimpered.

He didn’t tease.

He knelt behind me and pressed his cock to my entrance.

Not to slip in.

To wait.

“Say it,” he said.

“Yours.”

He pushed.

Slow.

So slow.

The stretch burned. My mouth fell open. I gasped into the robe.

“All of it,” he growled.

And he gave it to me.

Every inch.

His cock filled me like punishment. Like prayer. Like a blade I didn’t know how to live without.

I cried out. Not because I couldn’t take it.

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