Page 15 of UnTrained: Volume Two
I release my grip, flexing my fingers to restore circulation. My arms feel heavy as I lower them, wrapping them around his shoulders instead. The solid warmth of him against me feels like safety.
"Was that okay?" he asks, studying my face with careful attention.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me—genuine, surprised. "More than okay," I say, the words feeling inadequate. "That was... I didn't know it could be like that."
His smile is tender as he brushes his thumb across my cheekbone. "It's about trust, Lana. About knowing your boundaries will be respected."
I turn my face to kiss his palm, overwhelmed by emotions I can't quite name. This man has shown me more kindness and understanding in weeks than I've experienced in what feels like alifetime. The contrast between what happened at the facility and what's happening here in my bedroom makes my throat tight.
"What are you thinking?" Aiden asks, his weight shifting slightly above me.
"That I didn't think I could feel this way again," I whisper. "Safe. Whole."
Something flashes in his eyes—a warmth that makes my heart stutter. "You're stronger than you know." He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "And braver than most."
I feel his hardness against my thigh, a reminder that he hasn't found his own release. "What about you?" I ask, sliding my hands down his back.
"This was for you," he says simply. "We don't need to rush anything else."
The consideration in his words makes something warm bloom in my chest. His words touch me in a way I don't expect, stirring something deeper than physical pleasure. I trace my fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath my touch.
"I want more," I whisper. "I want to feel you."
Aiden studies my face, his gaze searching. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," I say, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "I need this. I need you."
He kisses me then, deep and thorough, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that reignites the embers of desire. His weight shifts above me, and I feel him reaching for something in the pocket of his discarded pants.
"Protection," he murmurs against my lips.
The consideration makes me smile. Even now, he's thinking of my safety, my wellbeing. I watch as he tears open the foil packet and rolls the condom over his length. There's something vulnerable in this moment of preparation that makes my chest tighten with emotion.
When he settles between my thighs again, his eyes hold mine. "Tell me if you need to stop," he says, his voice rough with desire but clear with concern.
"I will," I whisper, though stopping is the furthest thing from my mind. I want this connection, this reclaiming of something that was stolen from me.
Aiden positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of him pressing against me without pushing in. "Look at me," he commands softly.
I meet his gaze, those blue eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. When he finally begins to push inside, the stretch is exquisite—a fullness that makes me gasp. He moves slowly, giving me time to adjust to each inch, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Breathe," he reminds me, his voice strained with the effort of his control.
I inhale deeply, my body relaxing around him as he sinks deeper. There's no pain, only a delicious pressure that makes my toes curl. When he's fully seated within me, he pauses, his forehead coming to rest against mine.
"You feel incredible," he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips.
I wrap my legs around his hips, drawing him impossibly closer. "Move," I whisper, surprised by my own boldness. "Please, Sir."
Aiden's eyes darken at my request, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he begins to move. His first thrust is gentle, controlled, but when I gasp and arch beneath him, something shifts in his expression. His next movement is deeper, more confident.
"Is this what you need?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me where our bodies connect.
"Yes," I breathe, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Yes, Sir."
14
Aiden establishes a rhythm that steals my breath—not punishing or rough, but deliberate, each thrust hitting places inside me that make stars burst behind my eyelids. I feel myself opening to him, not just physically but emotionally, the walls I've built crumbling under his careful attention.
