Page 180 of Let Me In

“You’re taking me so well,” he says, voice thick with reverence and want. His gaze burns into mine, dark and molten, jaw clenched like he’s holding himself back for me. One hand braces at the small of my back, the other steadying my hip—every inch of him focused, contained, devoted. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold back.”

I don’t even realize I’ve been trying to be quiet until he says it.

But I nod.

I open.

And when he thrusts again—just a little harder, just a little deeper—I moan his name.

“Cal—”

His pace stays steady, dragging every inch of pleasure out of me like it’s his right.

“That’s my girl,” he growls. His voice is rough velvet, thick with pride and possessiveness, and the sound rolls through me like a vow. My whole body goes soft at the sound. “Let me guide you. Let me show you how good this can feel.”

I nod again.

Desperate now.

Hungry for more.

And he gives it.

Every thrust is deliberate. Like he’s reading me. Tuning himself to the rhythm of my breath, the arch of my spine, the way I whisper please without even realizing it.

“You’re doing perfect,” he murmurs. “So goddamn sweet wrapped around me.”

I don’t know how long he’s been moving like this.

Deep, measured, sure.

But my body is trembling, the tension building low in my belly is relentless—like a wave rising and rising and refusing to crest.

And he knows. Feels it in the way my walls flutter around him.

In the way my hands can’t stop grasping at his arms, his back, his shoulders—anything I can reach to ground myself.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice rough against my neck. “You’re right there.”

I whimper, nodding. But it’s too much, too deep, too good.

“I can’t—” I gasp. “Cal, I—”

His hips slow.

But the depth doesn’t stop. He thrusts again—long and firm.

And then he says it.

Low.

Gravel-deep.

Right in my ear.

“I need you to come apart for me, little one. Need it more than air.”

His voice roughens as he says it—low and frayed, like it’s been scraped up from someplace sacred. There’s something desperate in it, too. Something that wraps around my spine and settles in my chest. I feel it everywhere. The need. The command. The care.

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