Chapter 26
The world has dissolved. There is no past, no future, only the searing, all-encompassing present of Damon inside me.
It is a blissful, painful stretch, a feeling of being so utterly, completely full that I think I might fracture into two.
I am impaled and owned in a way that is both terrifying and profoundly right.
My body trembles, a fine, uncontrollable shudder from the overwhelming reality of our connection.
He is a part of me now, a thick, living presence lodged in the deepest part of my core.
I look at his face to find his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with a concentration that is almost frightening.
He is holding back; I can feel it in the coiled tension of his body and the rigid stillness of his hips.
He is giving me this moment to adjust, to acclimate to the sheer, breathtaking size of him.
I exhale a deep breath, and my tight, resistant muscles slowly soften to accommodate him.
It is still an intense, burning stretch, but the sharp edge of pain is beginning to dull, blurring into something that almost feels good.
I take a shaky breath, the first full one I’ve felt capable of since he’d entered me and experimentally shift my hips.
The movement is minuscule, but the effect is monumental.
A jolt of pleasure shoots through me, so intense, it makes me gasp.
He twitches inside me, and a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.
“I’m going to move, trouble,” he warns, strained. “Just a little, to show you how it feels. But I’m going to go nice and slow. If it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop.”
I can only nod, my words stolen. His grip on my hips tightens as he flexes his.
It is a slow, deliberate withdrawal, followed by an equally slow, shallow slide back inside me.
The friction is mind-blowing. Each shift sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through me, a delicious, dragging sensation that makes my toes curl.
The initial discomfort is gone, completely eclipsed by a pleasure that is beyond intense.
“Do you like how it feels when Daddy stretches you?” he asks in a low growl. “Can you take a little more?”
“Yes,” I moan, the lone word sounding desperate. “Yes, Daddy.”
He peppers wet kisses over my lips as he languidly thrusts the entirety of his thick length into me.
The kisses are soft, almost gentle, a stark contrast to the powerful, possessive way he is moving inside me.
Each time he fills me, it is a revelation, a discovery of a part of myself I never knew existed.
He is touching me everywhere, not just on the inside, but in some deep, hidden place in my soul.
I am lost, adrift in a sea of sensation, and I never want to be found.
“I’m going to pull my cock out so I can get on top.
” A wave of panic washes over me. The thought of him leaving me, even for a second, is unbearable.
I tighten my grip on his shoulders, a silent, desperate plea.
“It’s okay, trouble,” he soothes, his lips brushing against my temple.
“I’m not going anywhere. I just want to feel you under me. ”
With a deep, shuddering breath, I force myself to relax.
He carefully retreats from me; the sudden emptiness he leaves behind is a hollow, aching void.
With breathtaking strength and grace, he rolls us until I am on my back and he is settled between my thighs, his body a warm, heavy weight that pins me to the bed.
He looks down at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that makes my heart pound. “Breathe for me as I push back in,” he instructs.
I inhale a deep, shaky breath, and as I exhale, he slides the entirety of himself in with a single slow stroke, his hips flexing to repeat the motion.
The angle is different this way, deeper and more intimate.
He hits a place inside me that sends a bolt of pure, white-hot euphoria shooting through my entire body.
My lip quivers, and I struggle to draw air through the pleasure. It is too much and too intense. My hands fist at the sheets, my knuckles white, as I arch my back, offering myself up to him, completely and utterly.
“You’re doing so fucking good, taking all of my cock for the first time,” he admires in a low, rough rumble that vibrates through my entire body. “Daddy is so fucking proud of you.”
His words are my undoing. The combination of his deep, steady thrusts and his possessive praise sends me spiraling over the edge.
The orgasm that rips through me is otherworldly.
It isn’t a sharp, sudden explosion, but a slow, building wave that crests and crashes, leaving me gasping and trembling in its wake.
My entire body convulses, my inner muscles clenching around him in a rhythmic, pulsing grip.
He continues to flex his hips, his thrusts slow and deliberate, drawing out my pleasure and prolonging the aftershocks until I am a whimpering mess beneath him.
“Do you feel me filling every inch of you?” he growls. “Do you like Daddy’s cock claiming your tight little virgin pussy?”
My body still trembling from the force of my orgasm, I find myself unable to speak.
He moves a little faster, his thrusts grow a little harder, and the pleasure begins to build again, tightening with every thrust, kiss, and whispered word of praise.
I’m lost in a haze of sensation, my world narrowed to the feel of him inside me, the weight of him on top of me, and the sound of him whispering in my ear.
I am his, completely and utterly, and I have never felt more powerful, more alive.
He shifts his angle slightly, and the change is electric.
He hits that spot deep inside me again, only this time, he doesn’t let up.
He drives into me, again and again, each thrust a deliberate, calculated assault on my senses.
The pleasure is almost unbearable, leaving me teetering on the edge of insanity.
“Come for me, trouble,” he commands. “Come all over Daddy’s cock.”
His words are the final push I need. The second orgasm that rips through me is even more intense than the first, leaving me screaming his name as my body arches off the bed and my nails dig into his back.
He tenses above me as he drives into me one last time, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as he finds his own release.
We lie there for a long time, our bodies slick with sweat, him pulsing inside me. Breathless, he drags my face to his and kisses me. “You did so fucking good,” he praises against my lips.
He pulls away with a lazy, utterly satisfied smile that makes my heart skip a beat. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, withdrawing himself from me and rolling off before I can protest.
Damon retreats to the adjoining bath, returning a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth.
I reach for it as he approaches, but he shakes his head.
“No, I want to clean up the mess I made of you.” His voice is low and possessive.
“And you’re going to be a good girl and spread your thighs nice and wide, so I can wash my cum and that little bit of blood from you. ”
A blush creeps up my neck. I had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, about the possibility of blood. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He seems to… like it.
I obey without hesitation, parting my thighs, with a strange mix of vulnerability and trust as he kneels between them.
He looks down at me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes hold a tenderness that takes my breath away.
He reverently wipes between my legs, cleaning me with the same care he took in claiming me.
The warm cloth is soothing against my sensitive, swollen flesh.
His face is mesmerized with concentration and the almost worshipful way he tends to me.
There is no judgment or disgust, only a quiet, possessive pride that makes my heart ache.
After finishing with me, he uses the same cloth to clean the cum from his cock, his movements now economical and efficient.
He tosses it aside, then climbs onto the bed, dragging me into his arms. My naked body is soft and pliant as he pulls me against him until my head rests on his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.
He lifts the blanket over us, then wraps his arms tightly around me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his lips brushing against my hair as he snuggles me closer. “You did so well, trouble. So fucking well. I’m fucking proud of you.”
Tears well in my eyes, hot and sudden, overwhelmed by my emotions—a chaotic jumble of love, gratitude, and a lingering sense of disbelief. I have never felt so cherished, so seen, so completely and utterly accepted for who I am.
“I’m more than okay,” I whisper, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m… I’m perfect.”
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through my entire body. “Yes, you are,” he agrees, his arms tightening around me. “You absolutely are.”
We lie in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds are of our soft, even breaths and the gentle hum of the house around us.
I feel safe and protected, sensations I have spent my entire life searching for.
I trace idle patterns on his chest as I drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, the steady beat of his heart as my lullaby.