Lowering his head, he looks down at me with fire in his eyes. “Last chance to stop me.” He says it so softly against my lips, I can taste the strain in his voice.

I can feel him at my entrance and I can feel the amount of control it’s taking him not to do what comes naturally for him. He’s shaking from the force of it.

I kiss him. “No stopping.” Brazenly, I lick his lips. “I want to feel you. Make me feel every inch of you.”

He gives me my wish. Gently, slowly, he pushes in at first, and his thickness stretches me, fills me, and then he comes across the paper-thin wall of my virginity. “Aylee…” It’s a tortured groan murmured against my cheek. “Jesus, fuck. You’re so tight.”

I hold him tightly to me, my arms locking around his neck and my knees keeping him firmly between my thighs. I close my eyes and whisper against his neck, “Give me all of you, Maddox.”

He takes my face in his hands to swallow my pained whimper when his impaling thrust breaks through my hymen. Everything in me wants to recoil from the invasion, from the throbbing stretch of pain, but in a twisted way I enjoy the burn, it comes natural to me, and he pins me down and drives in deeper burying every last inch of him inside of me. He doesn’t move after that but holds perfectly still as we both breathe hard.

“I can pull out,” he whispers roughly, “say the word and I’ll pull…”

I shake my head and anchor my gaze to his. “Don’t.”

Even now, buried as deeply as he is in me, pulsating with driving need until he has his fill, he still thinks about me. Everything stops in that instance, and I become aware of everything. Cocooned in a small world where only he and I exist, where his breath sustains my life and mine his. Where food and water are in the kisses and touches we share, I come to the soul-rending realization that this is the moment Maddox becomes my everything. This is the moment I fall, swim, and drown in love with him.

Because here and now, he’s naked. Not in flesh, but in soul. He’s bare naked for me to see all of him. He gives me complete access to the depths of his emotions. He lets me see the ugliness along with the breathtaking beauty of his vulnerability, his fears, and his pains. I’m in awe. So incredibly in awe that I can do nothing but take his lips in a deep, tear-soaked kiss. “Don’t stop,” I choke out. “Don’t ever stop.”

He starts moving. Shallow thrusts at first, just enough to let me get used to his size, his length, and the overwhelming sensation of being so full of him.

He leaves me empty with every temporary backward pull of his hips, but when he drives forward, stretching, filling, and practically crawling inside my walls, there is no better euphoria.

Pulling my arms from around his neck, he pins them up over my head and palm to palm he interlocks our fingers and grips me tighter. He leans his forehead against mine. Drenching with sweat, his muscles quivering, he says, “Fuck…Aylee.” He sounds ragged, overcome as his thrusts gain to an almost savage pace. “Fuck, baby, too fucking much.”

I understand exactly what his foggy mind is trying to say because I feel it too. He feels so, so good, and I can hardly bear it. But I think I will die if he stops this beautiful friction of his hard-pulsing heat moving in and out of my clenching walls. He teaches me the cadence of this timeless dance. Our laboring breaths, my whimpers and moans, his growls and groans, and the unbelievably erotic slap of our drench flesh is the melody to which we dance to. And then he strikes at something deep, something dark and sinful, and the blinding pleasure it evokes wrenches a sobbing gasp from me.

“Maddox…” I breathe in wide-eyed wonder. “Oh Maddox, it feels…it feels…” I can’t describe it. I can’t even think.

“I know, baby.” And he keeps moving. His soft, ragged coercion utters against my lips. We lock eyes and it becomes so much more than the interlocking of our flesh. It’s soul recognition; it’s divine intimacy. It’s the enmeshment of two broken beings coming together as one whole entity. We breathe as one. We move as one. He’s the beginning to my end. “Let yourself feel how good my dick is inside you. Jesus, fuck. I can feel your G-spot. So damn hot, you’re gripping me so tight, Aylee, so damn tight…”

His thrusts are faster now. Frantic. Like he’s trying to climb inside of me. He has my hair entangled in his hands while he holds the sides of my face with the tips of his fingers and drinks my pleasure cries like they’re sea water. Every dip of his tongue inside my mouth seems to only increase his thirst for me.

I hold onto him, my fingernails raking down his back as his hands move from my face to grip and push my legs higher up his waist. He slams in deeper, hitting that bundle of dark pleasure over and over and over again until I scream and scream like death has come for me. A torrent of unadulterated rapture rends my very soul apart. I come undone. Mind, heart, and soul. Everything that I am is torn to spectacular pieces by the force of my release.

I feel him shuddering on top of me, his head burying between my shoulder and neck as he drives his hips hard, deep, and then I feel the flood. Even with the thin barrier of the condom, I still feel the hot spurts of his release. His length pulsates like a heartbeat at my core. Undulating beneath him, I greedily clench my walls around his cock. With a raw, animalistic sound, he bites down on my shoulder, his teeth scoring my skin before he soothes it with his tongue.

His mouth finds mine and just like his teeth branded me, his lips and tongue do the same to my mouth.

Chapter 22

Maddox

I am so fucked.

I’m sitting on my bed, feet on the ground, my legs partially open. And I’m bent over slightly, my arms carrying some of my weight as I rest my forearms on my thighs. I turn my head to the right to find Aylee sleeping peacefully on my mattress. I can lie and say the sight of her in my bed right now isn’t stirring up some base, primal sort of satisfaction in my chest. But why the fuck even lie at this point?

She’s gotten under my skin. She gradually dug through the layers of muscles to dive into my bloodstream. She’s gotten at a heart I never wanted to acknowledge again. And as much as I’m fighting it, tooth and fucking nail to keep her out, she’s torn at my walls. I can feel how raw I am right now. I clinch and unclench my hands into fists, hating the turbulence of my emotions. I’m not focused. I can’t think about anything else because she’s become my main thought.

She’s turned herself into something I need and I’ve learned the minute you find yourself needing someone, that’s when it’s game over.

You’re living for them now. Your heart is out there walking in flesh and blood, fucking exposed to everything and everyone and there’s not a fuck of a lot you can do about it. I look down at her. Mine is fucking lying here in my bed. So damn sweet, so peaceful and angelic. I almost feel like a demon intruding on her moment of tranquility.

Her hair is mussed around her soft face, her kiss-bruised mouth is dark pink, drawn partially open as she slowly breathes. She still has that post-sex flush in her cheeks and again that sense of raw, male pride rushes in me. I’ve had my share of pussy, an entire fucking variety in fact. Virgin, slightly used, and worn the fuck out. None of them have been any different than the other. They’re nothing but holes to me. Fleshlights with faces.

Being with Aylee, being inside her tight, virginal walls, holding her, looking at her facial expressions as I moved inside of her, hearing and tasting the delicious little sex sounds she made? Those are things I’ve never, ever come close to experiencing. Connecting with her, attuning to her needs, her wants, are the only things that push me to see how much pleasure I can give her, how slow or fast I will move so that she is able to enjoy everything about being with me. Because I want to be with her again right fucking now. The way she’d looked at me earlier, her beautiful, bicolored eyes glowing with so much damn emotions for me tore me apart.