Chapter 21 #2
“I love these,” she murmurs, tracing the spiral over my heart. “Every time I see them, I want to touch.”
“Then touch.” I stand still, letting her explore, feeling my muscles jump beneath her hands.
Her fingertips map the geography of my chest and shoulders, following the patterns down my arms. When she reaches toward the waistband of my pants, she gazes up at me, silently asking permission.
I nod.
She unfastens them carefully, and I help her push them down, kicking them aside along with my boots.
When I straighten, I’m fully bare before her.
She’s seen me before. Touched me. Learned me with careful, deliberate hands.
But her gaze moves over me now with a different quality—not discovery, but recognition.
She knows exactly what she’s looking at.
She knows exactly what comes next. The way her breath changes tells me she is thinking about how it will feel.
“That’s…” She trails off, her gaze fixed on my cock. “You’re very…”
“Large,” I finish for her. “I know. This is one of the reasons we’ve waited. I needed you ready.”
She swallows, but when she meets my gaze, there’s no fear. Only determination. “Show me.”
I give her my hand to help her down onto the bed, then join her there, the mattress dipping under my weight. She reaches for me immediately, and I catch her hand, bringing it to my chest instead.
“Slowly,” I remind her. “Let me take care of you first.”
I kiss her again, deep and thorough, while my hands map her body. Down her sides, across her stomach, over her hips. When I hook my fingers in the band of her underwear, she lifts her hips without prompting, helping me slide the fabric down her legs.
Now she’s completely bare beneath me, and the scent of her arousal hits me like a physical force. I close my eyes briefly, breathing her in, fighting for control.
“Vraag?” Her voice is uncertain now.
I open my eyes, focusing on her. “The scent of you,” I explain roughly. “It’s… intense. Delicious. Powerful. I need a moment.”
Understanding dawns on her face. “Because you’re—your senses are sharper.”
“Yes.” I press a kiss to her stomach, just below her navel. “And you smell like everything I’ve wanted and couldn’t have.”
I continue kissing my way down her body, feeling her thighs part in anticipation before I’ve even reached them. She knows what’s coming. Her body is already responding.
When my mouth finds her she doesn’t cry out—she exhales, long and shaking, like something released. Like she’s been waiting.
I know exactly where to take her. I know the sound she makes when I press just there, the way her hips roll when I slow down, the specific catch in her breathing that tells me she’s close. I’ve learned her. Thoroughly. And I use everything I know.
When I ease two fingers inside her, the stretch makes her gasp—not from surprise but from the particular tension of a body that remembers this and wants more of it. I curl them forward, finding the place I already know is there, and feel her clench around me immediately.
“Oh, God—” She breaks off into incoherent sounds as I find the spot I’m looking for.
I work her methodically, my tongue circling her clit while my fingers stroke inside her, and I feel the exact moment she tips over the edge. Her whole body goes rigid, then convulses, her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around my fingers.
I gentle her through it, easing the intensity until she goes limp, breathing hard.
“N-no words, Vraag.”
I kiss my way back up her body, settling my weight more carefully over her. “That was to get you ready.” I reach down, guiding myself to her entrance. “Because this is going to be a stretch, even now.”
She looks at me with those clear, trusting eyes. “I want it. I want you.”
Slowly, carefully, my tip breaches her entrance, and I feel her body resist—not rejection, but adjustment, her body learning the size of me. I go still. Every muscle locked. The restraint costs me more than every year of integration training combined.
“Breathe,” I manage. My voice has abandoned its careful register entirely. What comes out is pure want, barely leashed.
She draws a slow breath and releases it, and I feel her soften around me—just enough. I press deeper. The heat of her is staggering. Her tightness. The way her body grips me like it’s deciding whether to let me in or pull me under.
Both, I think. Both.
“Vraag.” My name in her mouth at that pitch is something I will carry for the rest of my life.
“I’m right here.” Forehead against hers, jaw tight, every muscle fights the urge to move. “I understand. Stay with me.”
Inch by careful inch I work deeper, watching her face—not for pain, though I’m watching for that too, but for the moment wonder overtakes everything else. When it comes, when her eyes go wide and dark and her lips part on a soundless exhale, something in my chest tears open.
“You’re so big,” she breathes. “I can feel you… everywhere.”
“Not quite everywhere.” My voice has gone guttural. “Not yet.”