Chapter 21 Selene #2
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. I nodded toward the nightstand beside the bed. “Top drawer.”
His eyes held mine as he reached for it, the quiet click of wood and metal sounding louder than it should have in the hush between us.
He opened the drawer and found the small bottle of lube without comment, flipping the cap with one hand.
I watched as he coated his fingers—slow, unhurried—the slick sound impossibly erotic.
His gaze never left mine.
“You still good?” he asked, voice low, thick with restraint.
I nodded, my lips parted, breath shallow. “Yes. Just . . . go slow.”
“Always,” he said like a vow.
He shifted as I spread my legs in front of him, one hand on my hip, the other trailing lower again. This time, the touch was slick, warm. He massaged gently, coaxing, not forcing—circling until my breath hitched and my spine arched of its own accord.
My nerves fluttered, but the ache between my legs was worse. He hadn’t even filled me yet, and already I was clenching around nothing.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing the back of my shoulder. “You’re doing so well for me.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Austin . . .”
“I’ve got you.” He was confident and steady—exactly what I needed when I felt like I was floating away.
One slick finger breached me slowly, the stretch unfamiliar but not painful. I gasped, surprised by how much I liked it—how intimate it felt, how raw.
He kept his movements shallow, gentle, his other hand stroking up my thigh in soothing patterns. Then he added more lube, more pressure. A second finger.
My breath caught and he stilled. “You okay?”
I swallowed, then nodded. “Yes. It’s different, but . . . good.”
His voice was like velvet against my skin. “You’re so fucking sexy like this. Open. Trusting. Letting me touch you like this.”
The words sent a pulse straight through me.
My body ached for more—for him. My fingers reached for my clit, needing something.
An idea popped into my head and I reached back, fumbling around the bedside table until I found my toy.
I pulled it out, clutching it against my chest as I looked up at him.
His eyes were dark with need, but he waited for me to show him what I wanted. I turned it on, the small vibrator buzzing low, and pressed it against my clit as he continued to massage my ass.
“Austin . . . I want you.” My entire body was on fire.
“Are you sure?” He paused, breath hard against my neck. “I’m happy to fill your tight little cunt if this is too much for you.”
A groan of pleasure escaped me at his filthy words. “Yes,” I whispered, not even recognizing the sound of my own voice. “I’m sure. I want all of you.”
He moved slowly, carefully. I felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against me, his hands spreading me wider, holding my hips steady. I gripped the sheets, nerves tangled with need.
He pressed forward, stopping the moment my breath hitched, letting me adjust to his size.
The stretch burned—then melted into something deeper. My body trembled, half in shock, half in wonder.
“Talk to me,” he said, voice hoarse, barely holding it together. “Tell me what you need.”
“I’m okay,” I whispered, heart pounding. “Keep going.”
He eased in another inch, groaning through clenched teeth. “Fuck, Selene . . . you feel incredible. I want to fill you with my cum.”
“Yes.” My moan was barely coherent.
Once he was fully seated, he stayed still—stroking my sides, kissing any part of me he could reach, murmuring praises against my skin until the tension in my limbs gave way to pleasure.
He began to move, shallow at first, building in slow, deliberate thrusts. His grip tightened on my hips, angling me just right, until the sensation sharpened—rushed—everything low and tight and dizzying.
I cried out, half shocked by the pleasure ripping through me. He reached between my legs, taking the vibrator and making sure it stayed against me, buzzing my clit and stroking in time with his thrusts.
It didn’t take long.
I shattered with his name on my lips, the climax blinding, drawn out by every inch of him still rocking into me with care and control.
“Fuck,” he growled, his rhythm stuttering. “You’re gonna kill me.”
When he came, it was with a rough sound in my ear, holding me like he never wanted to let go.
We didn’t speak at first. Just breathed, still tangled, slick and shivering in the aftershock. My body felt wrung out, boneless and raw in the best way. Austin stayed inside me, one hand gripping the flesh at my hip and the other splayed wide over my ribs like he needed to hold me together.
Eventually, he pulled out and inched back on the mattress. I winced at the sensitivity, but then he was soothing me with his mouth, pressing slow kisses along my rib cage as if he could seal every exposed nerve with warmth.
I turned my attention to him, and he was already watching me—eyes heavy lidded, hair wild, that same reverent look softening every hard edge of his face.
He smirked slightly, licking his lips. “Next time you let me take your ass,” he murmured, lazy and low. “We’ll fill that tight little cunt with your vibrator and see how you like it.”
My breath caught. Heat flashed through me so fast I had to close my eyes. “Jesus, Austin.”
He chuckled, slow and smug, his hand sliding down to squeeze my hip. “That’s not a no.”
It wasn’t. Not even close.
What scared me wasn’t how good he made me feel—it was how he completely rewrote the limits I thought I had. Somehow, with Austin, everything became a question I wanted to say yes to. He didn’t push. He didn’t demand. He offered and trusted me to answer.
And the trust—that was the part that undid me.
Later, after we showered, I curled into his chest, legs tangled beneath the sheets. He kissed my temple, murmured something low and unintelligible into my hair.
I drifted in and out of sleep, fingers trailing the lines of his arm, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was in trouble.
Because this wasn’t just sex.
He was more than a man in my bed. It was trust. It was joy. It was someone knowing every inch of you and still reaching for more. He was the warmth sneaking into all the places I swore I’d hardened.