Chapter 14
Nick
I looked down at her, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
She was sprawled beneath me, flushed and beautiful, her eyes wide and trusting. Vulnerable. Willing. Mine.
I’d never seen anything so perfect.
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t want to rush.
I didn’t want to take—I wanted to give. To draw out every second until time folded in on itself and there was nothing left but her and the way she made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I was more than what the world had made of me.
I positioned myself at her entrance, every nerve ending taut with restraint. Her warmth kissed the tip of me, and I had to clench my jaw to keep from sinking into her all at once. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.
I pushed in slowly—just a little. Her gasp nearly undid me.
Jesus.
I paused, every muscle locked, my forehead dropping to hers. “You okay?”
She nodded, her breath shaky against my skin.
Little by little, I eased deeper, feeling her body adjust around me. It was overwhelming. Too much and not enough all at once. She clung to me, her fingers gripping my shoulders like I was the only solid thing she could hold on to—and fuck if that didn’t undo me more than anything else.
I bottomed out with a shuddering breath, staying still while we adjusted to the new gravity of this moment. Her legs wrapped around me, drawing me closer, and that was when I moved.
Slow. Measured. Controlled.
She moved with me, like we were made to fit this way, and every roll of my hips, every subtle shift, felt like building something sacred from the wreckage of all the years I thought I didn’t deserve this.
She moaned softly, her body trembling beneath mine. I kissed her—deep and sure—swallowing every sound she gave me like it was meant only for me. Because it was.
I wanted to give her everything. Wanted her to fall apart in my arms knowing I’d never let her break alone.
And as her breath hitched and her nails dug in, I knew I was dangerously close to unraveling.
But I held on.
Because this wasn’t about me.
It was about her.
I moved slowly, every inch a test of my self-control.
Her body welcomed me with a heat so intense it stole the breath from my lungs, and yet I held back, reigning in the urge to take more than she was ready to give.
This wasn’t about satisfying need—it was about giving her something unforgettable.
Something sacred. Her first time deserved more than urgency. It deserved reverence.
The tightness of her around me was almost unbearable.
My muscles locked as I fought the instinct to thrust deeper, harder—to lose myself in the overwhelming pleasure.
But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I focused on her instead, the way her hands clung to my back, the soft gasp that escaped her lips, the way her eyes fluttered shut and then opened again, trying to stay grounded in the storm we’d created between us.
"Fuck, Kennedy," I growled. "You're so fucking tight."
She felt so good—so impossibly good—I could hardly think straight.
The way she gripped me, warm and trembling, made every nerve in my body fire like a live wire.
I could feel her heartbeat against mine, quick and uncertain, and it mirrored my own.
This wasn’t just sex—it was something deeper, something consuming.
And it terrified me how much I wanted to give her everything, to let her wreck me completely.
I whispered her name like a prayer, trying to stay anchored in the moment, trying to keep my pace slow, reverent.
Every thrust was deliberate, dragging against her in a way that had her arching beneath me, her lips parting in a sound that made my vision blur.
I wanted to remember every detail—how she felt, how she looked, the way her body moved with mine like we were made for this. For each other.
But even with all the care I took, the pleasure clawed at me—unrelenting, brutal in its sweetness. My hands curled into the sheets beside her as I breathed through the burn of restraint. I was inside her, and it was everything. Too much. Too good. And somehow, still not enough.
Her face was drawn, brows tight with something I couldn’t quite name—pain, nerves, maybe both.
Brave, quiet, and so damn beautiful it nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
She was doing this for me. With me. Trusting me enough to let go piece by piece.
And fuck, if that didn’t wreck me more than anything else ever could.
“You feel so good,” I murmured, leaning down, so the words kissed her skin. I wasn’t trying to seduce her—I was worshiping her. “You’re taking me so well.”
That was when I felt it. Her body eased beneath mine, legs parting a little wider, tension melting into something softer.
Her fingers tightened on my shoulders, like she was anchoring herself—like I was her anchor.
I moved again, slow and careful, and she gasped, hips lifting to meet mine in silent invitation.
A sound tore from my throat—half groan, half reverent whisper—as she began to move with me.
Tentative at first, uncertain. But soon we found a rhythm, something quiet and sacred.
With every slow thrust, every shared breath, we weren’t just making love—we were building something holy in the hush between heartbeats.
"Nick," she breathed out, her voice barely a whisper. I could feel her trembling beneath me, her body taut with anticipation. She was close, so close, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the thought of being the one to bring her to the edge.
"There you go, princess," I murmured, my voice low and rough. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel it. I can feel you."
She whimpered in response, her nails digging into my back as I continued to move inside her. I could feel her muscles tightening around me, her body clenching and releasing in a rhythm that drove me wild.
"Yeah, you are, baby," I said, my voice thick with desire. "You're going to come for me like a good wife?"
I thrust into her deeper, until I bottomed out, and those breathy whimpers from her turned into full-fledged cries. I loved every single second of it. I loved the way she sounded, the way she felt, the way she looked as she lost herself in the pleasure I was giving her.
I could feel my own release building, the pressure building in my lower back as I continued to move inside her. But I didn't want it to end yet. I wanted to draw it out, to make it last as long as possible.
I slowed my pace, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in, savoring the way her body clenched around me. She moaned, her hips bucking up to meet mine, and I knew she was close.
"Come for me, princess," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "I want to feel you come around me."
And with that, she did. Her body shuddered, her muscles tightening around me as she cried out, her voice echoing through the room.
I let her ride the waves of her orgasm, watching as she came apart beneath me. Her body trembled, her breath hitched, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that I was the one who made her feel this way.
When she finally finished, I picked up the pace. I couldn't hold myself back any longer. I needed to feel her tighten around me again, to hear her moans and gasps as I thrust into her.
"Fuck, princess," I growled, gripping her hips tighter. "I'm addicted to your pussy. I want to fucking wreck you, remind you just who the fuck you belong to."
She met me stroke for stroke, her hips rising to meet mine as I drove into her. Her nails dug into my back, leaving marks that would linger for days.
"Harder," she begged. "Nick, harder."
Her words spurred me forward, and I didn't even see her anymore. All I could see was pleasure in tangible form, and I was grunting and growling like a goddamn animal. But I wasn't going to stop until I got another orgasm from her.
Each thrust sent shockwaves through my body, and the sound of our skin slapping together echoed in the room, mingling with her breathy cries. I leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle—teeth and tongue and raw need.
She moaned into my mouth; her nails raking down my back, and I welcomed the sting. It grounded me, tethered me to the moment. Her body tightened around me, muscles clenching like a vice, and I knew she was close again.
“Come for me again,” I growled against her lips. “Show me who you belong to.”
Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and vulnerable and filled with something I couldn’t name but recognized all the same. She was on the edge, teetering on the brink of something bigger than both of us.
With one final thrust, she shattered. Her body convulsed beneath me, her cries raw and unrestrained. The sight of her coming undone was my undoing. I buried myself deep inside her, feeling every tremor as she rode out her orgasm.
I wasn’t far behind. The tension coiled tight in my spine snapped, and I followed her over the edge with a groan that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside me. The release was overwhelming, a flood of sensation that left me breathless and shaking.
I filled her heat with my own, her pussy gripping my cock, wanting every last fucking drop I had to give.
And I'd give it.
I'd give her any fucking thing she wanted.
I collapsed onto her, careful with my weight but unable to stay away.
Her body was warm beneath mine—soft, flushed, and trembling in the most perfect way.
I was still inside her, and every tiny shift sent aftershocks ricocheting through us both.
My heart pounded like I’d run ten miles, and my lungs dragged in air like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice rough and frayed at the edges, still caught in the wreckage of everything we’d just shared.
She didn’t answer—not with words. Just a soft, breathy sound that melted straight through me.
That sound was everything. It said yes, more; I trust you, all without her having to speak.
I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her skin as I looked at her—really looked at her.
Her chest rose and fell in slow, uneven waves.
Her skin was glowing, lips parted. Beautiful. Wrecked. Mine.
“You did so good, baby,” I murmured, letting my lips brush her temple. “So fucking good.”
Her eyes fluttered open at that, and what I saw in them unraveled me all over again.
She looked soft but fierce—vulnerable and completely satisfied, and still somehow hungry for more.
I kissed her cheek, then her neck, slowly, reverently, like every inch of her was sacred ground I’d finally been allowed to touch.
I wanted to honor her. I wanted to worship her.
“Nick…” she whispered, my name spilling from her lips like a secret she didn’t want to take back.
“Yeah?” I whispered against her throat.
“Don’t stop.”
That cracked me wide open. She said it so quietly but so sure, and God, I’d never wanted someone the way I wanted her.
I shifted slightly, drawing back just enough to look into her eyes.
No fear. No hesitation. Only trust—and a hint of mischief that made my chest tighten in the best way.
She wasn’t just giving herself to me. She was choosing me, again and again.
So I moved. Slowly. Deeply. A rhythm born not of urgency but of awe. I kissed her—long and consuming—and whispered against her lips, “I want you to remember this.”
She clung to me, arms wrapped around my neck, hips rising to meet mine with aching precision.
“Remember that you chose this,” I said.
And as her fingers tangled in my hair and her body opened for me again, I knew—this was it. We weren’t just having sex. We were making something new. Something lasting. Something that felt like home.
I moved inside her with slow, deliberate strokes, every inch a prayer I didn’t know I’d been waiting my whole life to say.
Her body welcomed me with a softness that undid me—tight and warm and impossibly perfect.
The pace wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t about urgency this time.
It was about her. About letting every second stretch between us until it felt like the world existed only in the way her breath hitched, the way her hands roamed over my back, the way our hearts beat in sync beneath our skin.
Each thrust was deep, dragging, like I couldn’t bear to leave her even for the briefest second.
And every time I sank back in, her body clung to mine like she never wanted to let go.
She met me slowly, hips tilting in time, her moans soft and broken against my throat.
I pressed kisses to her shoulder, to her jaw, to the spot just beneath her ear that made her tremble.
The connection wasn’t just physical—it was threaded through every glance, every whispered breath, every silent promise passed between us.
I could feel it building—not the usual rush of heat and pressure, but something steadier.
Deeper. Like a tide rising slow and inevitable, until I was drowning in the sheer rightness of it.
My fingers laced with hers beside her head, our grip tight, grounding.
Her name slipped past my lips like worship, and when she whispered mine back, I felt the earth shift beneath me.
And when release finally came, it wasn’t a blaze that burned fast and bright.
It came in waves, slow and consuming. My whole body tensed as I poured myself into her, the pleasure curling through me in a way I’d never known before—low and intense and full.
My toes curled, my breath caught, and for a long moment, I forgot how to do anything but feel.
Not just the pleasure, but the intimacy—the trust. The way she looked at me like I was hers.
I stayed inside her, bodies still connected, heart hammering in the quiet aftermath. She wrapped herself around me, and I didn’t move—not yet. I just breathed her in. This was something I’d never be able to walk away from.
I pressed my forehead to hers, voice rough as I whispered, “You wreck me, baby.”
And I meant it.
She had.
In the best possible way.