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Then he starts to move.

Slow thrusts. Deep. Controlled. Each one pushing me open, making me feel everything.

He keeps his eyes on me, his mouth brushing mine as his hips rock upward into my heat. I roll my hips with him, gasping softly as the friction builds—sweet, hot, raw.

His hands guide my body, gripping my hips just tight enough to hold me in place as he thrusts up into me again. And again.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he whispers. “Wrapped around me. Looking at me like that.”

And I can’t look away.

Because in his eyes, I see everything—desire, tenderness, possession. And in this moment, I’m not just his.

I’m ours.

He begins to move and the groans of my pleasure fills the air.