Aidan
I wake up before she does.
Gold light is coming through the window, soft and early, and for a moment I don't move.
I don't breathe. I just lie there and feel the weight of her against my side, her head on my chest, her hair fanned across my skin in dark waves that smell like the exact scent I've been carrying in my memory for two years.
She's here.
She's here. In my bed. In my house. Her breathing slow and even against my ribs, her hand resting on my stomach, her leg tangled with mine beneath the sheets.
She stayed.
That means she chose this. She chose to close her eyes in my bed and trust that the man beside her wouldn't betray that. It's the smallest act of faith imaginable, and from Tanya, it's everything.
She stirs. A small movement. Her fingers curl against my stomach and her breathing changes, and I know she's waking up.
I feel the exact second consciousness arrives, because her body tenses.
Just barely. A slight tightening of every muscle, the instinctive bracing of a woman who's spent her life preparing for the worst before she opens her eyes.
I don't move. I keep my hand on her back and my breathing even and I wait.
She lifts her head.
Her eyes find mine, and for a moment, I see everything. The uncertainty. The residual softness of sleep that she hasn't managed to clear yet. The faint surprise that I'm watching her, followed by the rapid recalculation as she remembers where she is and what happened and what it means.
She holds my gaze, and her expression settles into something I haven't seen before. Unguarded in a way that's deliberate rather than accidental. Like she's choosing not to hide, even though every instinct is telling her to.
"Morning," I say.
"Morning," she says back.
And she doesn't move away.
I don’t speak. I just slide my hand up the elegant line of her spine, slow enough that she feels every callus on my palm, every intention behind the touch. She shivers and her nipples pebble where they are pressed against me.
She’s already wet for me again. I can smell it on her, that sweet, private scent that’s been haunting me for two years.
I roll us carefully until she’s straddling my hips, her knees bracketing my sides, the weight of her settling right where I’ve dreamed of her every single night since Prague. My cock is already hard, thick and aching against her slick folds, but I don’t thrust up. I want to watch what her.
“Hands on the headboard,” I murmur, voice rough with sleep and two years of restraint.
She obeys without hesitation, another crack in that ice she used to wear like armor, and grips the wood above me.
The position arches her back, lifts her perfect breasts, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning out loud.
She’s a fucking goddess up there, flushed and bare and mine.
I slide both palms up her thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft inner crease where she’s already glistening.
I spread her open with my fingers, and just look.
The pink, swollen lips of her pussy part for me like they were made to.
My mouth waters. I’ve waited so long to taste her properly, to bury my face in the one place she never let anyone else go.
I pull her closer to my mouth and she walks her knees up towards my shoulders, sliding my arms between her legs to grip her gorgeous, round ass. Then I lift my head and drag my tongue through her in one long, filthy stroke.
The sound she makes goes straight to my balls. I do it again, slower this time, circling her clit with the flat of my tongue before sucking it gently between my lips. Her hips jerk. I grip her tighter, holding her exactly where I want her, and feast.
God, she’s perfect. The taste of her, the way her thighs tremble around my ears, the little desperate sounds she can’t swallow down.
I could live on this. I lap at her like a man who’s been starving, flattening my tongue to lick broad stripes from her entrance to her clit, then spearing inside her just to feel her clench around me.
Every time her breath hitches, every time her body jerks, I feel it in my chest like a victory.
I want to fill this pussy until she’s dripping with me.
I want to breed her so deep she’ll feel me for days.
I want her belly round with my child, want every man in our world to look at her and know exactly who put it there.
The thought is so raw it nearly undoes me, but I keep it locked behind my teeth.
This morning is for her. For watching her come apart on my tongue before I give her every inch of me, and every drop I’ve been saving.
I slide two fingers inside her without warning, curling them until I find that spot the makes her thighs quiver.
Her head falls back, dark hair cascading down her spine, and the moan that rips out of her is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
I suck her clit harder, fucking her with my fingers in a steady rhythm that matches the frantic little rolls of her hips.
“Aidan—” My name fractures on her tongue, and I swear I feel it in my soul.
I don’t stop. I add a third finger, stretching her, scissoring gently while my tongue works her clit in tight, relentless circles.
Her whole body is trembling now, muscles locked, breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
I watch every second of it, enjoying the way her stomach tightens, the way her nipples pebble tight, the way her mouth falls open like she can’t remember how to close it.
She comes with a cry that echoes off the beams, thighs clamping around my head, pussy pulsing around my fingers in hot, rhythmic waves.
I keep licking her through it, gentling my touch but never stopping, drawing it out until she’s shaking and whimpering and trying to twist away from the overstimulation.
Only then do I ease my fingers free, bring them to my mouth, and sucking them clean while she watches with hazy, blown pupils. The taste of her orgasm is better than anything I’ve ever had.
She parts her legs allowing me just enough room to get my arms back through to guide her.
I grip her hips again and guide her down my body until the head of my cock nudges her soaked entrance.
She’s still trembling, still catching her breath, but she sinks onto me anyway.
Slowly, she takes every thick inch until her ass is flush against my thighs and I’m buried to the hilt.
Fuck. She’s so tight, so hot, so wet. I have to lock every muscle in my body to keep from thrusting up like an animal.
This is where I belong. This is what I’ve waited for.
I can already imagine it; filling her until she overflows, breeding her right here in our bed until there’s no question who she belongs to.
Instead I let her set the pace. She braces her hands on my chest and starts to move, rolling her hips in these slow, devastating circles that drag my cock against every sensitive spot inside her. Her head falls forward, hair curtaining us both, and I reach up to cup her face with both hands.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
Gray eyes meet mine, stormy, desperate, stripped of every defense, and I swear I see the exact moment she lets go completely.
She rides me harder, chasing another peak, and I watch every flicker across her face: the way her lashes flutter, the way her lips part on a silent moan, the way her brows draw together when I angle my hips just right and hit that spot again and again.
I slide one hand between us, thumb finding her clit, circling in time with her movements. The other hand stays on her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip. She sucks it into her mouth without thinking, and the wet heat of her tongue around my thumb nearly ends me.
She comes again with a desperate cry, body bowing, pussy clamping down around me so tight I see stars. I hold her through it, drinking in every tremor, every broken sound, every flutter of her lashes. Only when she starts to collapse forward do I finally let myself move.
I flip us in one smooth motion, pressing her into the mattress on her stomach.
I pull her hips up just enough to slide back inside her from behind, deep and possessive, one hand braced beside her head, the other reaching under to squeeze one of her perfect tits.
She pushes back into every thrust, greedy and desperate, and I bury my face in the curve of her neck.
I try to hold back the words burning in my chest. I don’t want to tell her I’m going to fill her until she’s bred full, or how I’m going to keep her swollen and claimed and mine forever.
I don’t want to scare her back behind those walls she has finally let me behind.
But with every slow, rolling thrust, I can feel my control fraying around the edges.
Every time her pussy grips my cock, tries to milk me, it gets harder not to roar my claim out loud.
Her whimpers have become long and drawn-out moans, punctuated by “yes, Aidan,” and “right there, don’t stop,” and my balls lift in preparation to fill her.
“Fuck, Aidan,” she says, the words rough from between gritted teeth. “I need you to fill me.”
I don’t have time to feel the shock at her words as a jolt of pleasure shoots from the base of my balls to the base of my spine, then slams up into my neck and down my arms. My cock jerks with every spurt of cum, each one marked by a desperate groan as I do exactly as she asks.
I expect it to be over after three strong pulses, but it continues until our mixed juices are frothing around the base of my cock.
Until I’m the one whimpering while her pussy walls flutter around me and she shakes beneath me through another orgasm.