Page 50 of Broken Forced Mate
When his fingers find the button of my jeans, I lift my hips to help him work them down my legs. The denim hits the floor, leaving me in nothing but the lacy underwear I put on this morning without thinking about who might see it.
“So wet already,” he observes as his finger traces the damp fabric between my legs.
My face burns with embarrassment, but I don’t try to close my legs. I want this. I want him to see how much I need him.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Raegan….”
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and slides the fabric down my legs with maddening slowness. When I’m completely bare in front of him, he steps back to look, and the reverence in his gaze makes me feel like art.
Then he’s touching me, really touching me, and his fingers explore places that have ached for him for years. When he finds my clit, I nearly come off the bench.
“Please,” I whisper, not sure what I’m asking for.
He doesn’t make me wait. One finger slides inside me, then two, and the stretch feels better than I ever could have imagined.
“So tight,” he groans. “God, you feel incredible.”
He works me with skilled fingers, finding the rhythm that makes my hips buck against his hand. His thumb circles my clit while he moves in and out of my body, and the dual sensation pushes me higher than I’ve ever been.
“That’s it,” he encourages when I start to tremble. “Let go for me.”
The orgasm builds slowly, a deep pressure that starts in my core and radiates outward. When it finally breaks, I cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. My body clenches around his fingers, and he works me through it as he presses soft kisses to my throat while I come down. “You’re so fucking sexy when you come.”
My hands shake as I reach for his belt, desperate to return the favor. He doesn’t protest when I work the leather free, when I unbutton his jeans and push them down his hips.
When I free him from his boxers, the sight of him makes my mouth water—long and thick, the head already dark with arousal.
I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him in my palm. His skin is like silk over steel, and when I run my thumb over the sensitive head, he makes a sound that’s part groan, part prayer.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes.
Emboldened by his response, I increase the pressure, working him with sure strokes. Pre-cum beads at the tip, and I smooth it around the head with my thumb, making him curse under his breath.
“Raegan, I need—” His voice breaks when I twist my wrist on the upstroke. “I need to be inside you.”
“Yes,” I agree, spreading my legs wider. “Please.”
He positions himself between my thighs, and the blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance. For a moment, we both freeze, understanding the significance of this moment.
When he pushes inside, the sensation steals my breath. Not just the physical joining, but the way the supernatural bond flares with completion. This is what I’ve been fighting against, what I’ve been denying we both needed.
He fills me completely, stretching me in ways that border on too much. My body adjusts gradually, welcoming him home.
“Okay?” he asks, holding perfectly still.
“More than okay.” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
He moves slowly at first, like he’s savoring the sensation. Each thrust sends pleasure radiating through my core, and I can feel myself getting wetter, easing the slide.
The pace gradually increases as his control frays. Soon, he’s moving with real purpose, and each thrust hits something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Right there,” I gasp when he finds the perfect angle.
“Here?” He hits the same spot again, and I arch off the bench.
“Yes, God, yes.”
The workbench creaks under the force of his movements, but neither of us cares. I’m lost in the sensation of him moving inside me, the way his muscles bunch and release under my hands, the sounds he makes when I clench around him.
