Chapter 6 – Sage #2
I inhale deeply, trying to relax. He chooses that moment to push forward, breaching the barrier in one smooth motion. Pain flares, sharp but brief, pulling a gasp from my throat.
He stills immediately, muscles trembling with the effort of restraint. "Okay?"
I nod, the discomfort already fading into something more complex. The feeling of him inside me is unlike anything I've experienced, intimate in a way I wasn't prepared for, my body stretched around him, accommodating his size with a pleasurable burn.
"Don't stop," I whisper, lifting my hips slightly to take him deeper.
He groans at the movement, his control visibly fraying. "You feel incredible," he says, voice strained. "So tight. So perfect."
He withdraws slightly before pressing back in, a slow, deliberate stroke that makes us both gasp. He creates a gentle rhythm, each thrust measured and controlled, giving me time to adjust to the new sensation.
I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle, taking him deeper still.
The shift pulls a low growl from his throat, his pace increasing slightly in response.
His weight presses me into the mattress, his chest rubbing against my breasts with each movement, creating delicious friction against my sensitive nipples.
"Good?" he asks, watching my face.
"Yes," I breathe, hands sliding down to his lower back, feeling the muscles flex as he moves. "More."
He shifts, lifting my hips slightly with one large hand, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper. The change is immediate and intense, he hits something inside me that makes my vision blur, a spot I didn't know existed. I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.
"There," he murmurs, a note of satisfaction in his voice. He repeats the motion, deliberately targeting that spot, watching as I unravel beneath him.
The rhythm builds, his thrusts becoming more insistent, less controlled. The sound of our breathing fills the room, punctuated by the wet sound of our bodies together, the creak of the bed beneath us.
He shifts again, sitting back on his heels and pulling me onto his lap without breaking our connection. Like this, we're face to face, my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands supporting my lower back.
"Move," he instructs, hands guiding my hips. "Find what feels good."
I rock experimentally, lifting and lowering myself on him, discovering the rhythm that sends sparks shooting up my spine. His hands help guide me, strong and sure on my hips, but he lets me set the pace, watching with dark eyes as I find my pleasure.
"Silas," I gasp, movements becoming erratic as tension coils tighter. "I'm close—"
"Let me feel you," he growls, thrusting up to meet my downward motion.
The command in his voice pushes me over the edge. My body clenches around him, walls pulsing as pleasure radiates outward from where we're connected. The intensity of it steals my breath, my vision blurring at the edges as wave after wave crashes through me.
He holds me through it, murmuring encouragement against my skin, his movements slowing but not stopping, prolonging the sensation until I'm trembling in his arms. When the last aftershock subsides, he lays me back on the bed, following me down, still hard inside me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, brushing sweat-dampened hair from my face. "Perfect."
He begins moving again, his pace more urgent now, chasing his own release. I'm sensitive from my orgasm, every thrust sending aftershocks of pleasure through my overstimulated body. I wrap my legs around him again, urging him deeper, wanting to feel him lose control.
His rhythm falters, becoming less measured, more primal. I can feel the tension building in him, see it in the flush spreading across his chest, the strain in his features.
His hands grip my hips tightly, holding me in place as he drives into me with increasing intensity.
"Sage," he groans, the sound of my name on his lips sending a fresh wave of heat through me. "I'm going to—"
"Yes," I urge, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. "Let go."
His control finally breaks. He thrusts once, twice more, then stiffens above me, face buried in my neck as he finds his release. I feel him pulse inside me, his body shuddering against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my skin
His heart pounds against mine, our bodies still joined, connected in the most fundamental way. I run my hands along his back, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles, the heat of his skin.
Finally, he shifts, lifting himself slowly off me. I expect him to maintain some distance, but instead he pulls me against him, arranging my body so my back is to his chest, his arm draped over my waist.
"Cold?" he asks, pulling the blankets up over us.
"No," I answer truthfully. Despite the chill in the room, I'm warm everywhere his skin touches mine.
His hand strokes lazily up and down my side, from hip to ribs and back again. Not with intent, just appreciation. I melt into the touch, into the solid warmth of him behind me.
"Regrets?" he asks quietly, mouth close to my ear.
I shake my head, turning slightly to see his face. "None. You?"
He considers for a moment, then shakes his head. "No. Though I probably should."
I smile, tracing the line of his jaw with my finger. "Too late now."
He captures my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss my palm. "Much too late."