Page 315 of Let Me In

So I give it to her.

I slow.

Still.

Draw my hips back just enough to reach between us.

My hand slides between her legs, finds her center; soft, swollen, slick with need and utterly open to me. My touch is not teasing, not testing, but giving. Rubbing slow, tight circles. I’m determined, ferocious with the need to feel her come apart around me.

She gasps.

Back arches.

Eyes fly to mine.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “Let me take care of you.”

She bites her lip.

Shakes her head once—not to say no, but like she can’t believe I want to.

But I do.

God, I do.

“Don’t hold back, little one.” My voice is low, gravelled—wrecked with love, with reverence.

My fingers work her slowly, not teasing, not pushing. Just coaxing.

Firm circles. Steady swipes. Timed to the slow, grounding rhythm of my hips. The pressure inside her is constant, anchoring us both.

Every movement meant to comfort, to claim. To hold her in that space between surrender and safety.

“Come for me,” I whisper. “Let go, baby. I need you to.”

Her walls flutter around me—so soft, so wet, so real. Her breath stutters, and her hands fly to my back, clutching hard—desperate, instinctive.

Then she breaks.

A soft cry leaves her lips as a tremble ripples through her limbs, her wide eyes locking on mine.

She doesn’t hide. Doesn’t turn away.

She lets me in—completely—and I see it all: the vulnerability, the trust, the breathtaking rightness of her surrender.

Her body trembles around me, shudders wracking her in waves, and I don’t move faster.

I stay.

Buried deep.

Braced over her, fingers coaxing her through every last ripple.

She moans my name—

Not like a plea.

Not like a curse.

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