Page 285 of Eternal
“That’s it,” he murmured, smirking. “Didn’t need a comeback anyway.”
His cock pressed against my thigh now, hot, heavy, so ready it made my stomach twist.
He pulled his fingers from me slowly, dragging every inch of slick out like he wanted me to feel what he was giving up. Then he licked them clean, without breaking eye contact.
I was panting, my body was already begging for something it wasn’t used to. A touch, a kiss,anythingas long as it carried his essence.
“I think you’re ready for me…”
“Mmhh…You should see for yourself.”
He lined himself up, pressing the tip barely against me, dragging it through the mess he’d made, but he didn’t push in. Not yet.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered. “Suddenly shy?”
He grinned. “Not shy,” he said. “I don’t want to miss the look on your face.”
Long fingers brushed against my scar on the jaw and he smiled again, “Remember it’s for you. Have fun. Don’t think. It’s just you and me.”
Then he thrust in, slow but solid, stealing the air from my lungs.
My back arched. A cry slipped out before I could swallow it.
“Fuuck,” he groaned, still watching me like I was a miracle and a crime scene all at once.
He filled me like he had every right to, not rushed, not brutal.Certain. Inch by in, feeling it all.
My hands gripped his arms, his back, whatever I could reach. My legs wrapped tighter around his hips, holding him there, refusing to let him pull back yet.
“You okay?” he asked, but he already knew.
I nodded,barely, and then clenched around him on purpose.
His head dropped to my shoulder with a hiss. “Fuck… Fuck…”
And I laughed softly before gasping for air again. He sounded patheticforme, pathetic for touchingme, as if it was a chance.
“You think that’s funny?” he breathed with that same smile.
“A little.”
“Such a brat.”
His mouth was at my throat a second later, tongue dragging across skin like he needed to taste me mid-punishment. And then he started to move, long, deep thrusts that had me gasping with every drag. The pace wasn’t punishing, it was perfect. He wanted me to feel each one of them, to memorize how it felt when he took his time.
“You’re filthy,” he whispered, breath hot in my ear. “And perfect. Look at the way you take me.”
“Hard to look when you’re—oh my god?—”
He grinned.
One hand braced beside my head, the other dropped between us again, working my clit in tight, wet circles.
“Use your words,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
“You have me already.”
