Page 51 of Fallen Heir
I meant every damn word. And I watched as her walls crumbled. I watched her breathe me in.
And then—I took what was already mine. Starting with her mouth.
When her climax hit, it was fast. Hard. Like her body had been waiting for release far longer than she’d admit. I gave her a minute, just watching her—searching her face for anything that said stop.
But it wasn’t there.
What I saw instead was need. Fire. Hunger still burning in her eyes.
I stood, unbuttoning my jeans and dropping them with my briefs. Her gaze tracked every movement—like she couldn’t look away.
I gripped myself in my hand, giving her a second to take me in. To see the truth of what she did to me. Her scars—they wrecked me. Fueled a silent rage in the back of my mind. But more than that... they made her real. They made her strong. Beautiful. Untouchable in every way that mattered.
I’d traced every one of them with my fingers. Felt them. Memorized them.
And now—I was going to worship her the only way I knew how.
I crawled onto the bed, giving her just enough space so she didn’t feel crowded. Didn’t feel trapped.
And then, slowly—deliberately—I sank inside of her.
She gasped—a sharp, broken sound that hit me straight in the chest.
Her hands gripped my biceps, fingers digging in as I filled her inch by inch. Her body clenched around me like it was built for this. Forme. And fuck, if I didn’t feel it all the way to my soul.
“Jaxson,” she whispered, like she couldn’t believe it—like I was something she’d dreamed into existence.
I stilled for a moment, buried inside her, letting her adjust—letting us bothfeel. My forehead rested against hers as I dragged in a breath, trying not to come right then and there from the heat of her alone.
“You okay?” I asked, voice hoarse.
She nodded. “Don’t stop.”
So I didn’t.
I pulled out slow—agonizingly slow—and thrust back in with just enough force to make her breath hitch again. Her body rose to meet mine, her legs wrapping around my waist, anchoring me to her.
Every movement was measured. Deep. Controlled. But barely. I was hanging on by a thread, and she knew it. I could feel the way her walls gripped me tighter with every stroke, the way her breath stuttered against my ear.
She was unraveling.
And I wanted to be the one to destroy her completely. In all the good ways.
“Look at me,” I whispered, brushing my nose against hers.
Her eyes opened—wide, glassy, filled with something that looked a hell of a lot likeneed.
I gave her more.
More pressure. More pace.
My hips snapped forward, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the dark room, and she moaned—my name—like it was the only word she remembered how to say.
And holyfuck… it did something to me.
I buried my face in her neck, tasting her sweat, her skin, the scent of lavender still clinging to her sheets. Her nails raked down my back, her thighs tightening around me like she was afraid I’d disappear.
“I’ve got you,” I growled. “You don’t have to hold back.”
