Page 13

S he clutches at me, still trembling from the high I pulled out of her with my mouth, and when I slide inside her, it’s like the entire world stops.

Fuck.

She’s so tight. So warm.

So goddamn perfect.

Her juicy thighs flex around my waist, hips lifting to meet mine as I sink deeper. Inch by slow inch.

I grit my teeth to keep from coming right then and there.

Lucy Volkov is more than I ever imagined.

Every fantasy. Every late-night thought I tried to banish.

But now, she’s not a fantasy.

She’s real.

And mine.

Her hands roam across my back, nails dragging along my skin, a breathy moan falling from her lips when I bottom out inside her.

“Balor,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Oh God.”

“I’ve got you,” I rasp, forehead pressed to hers, trying to keep my control. “You feel like fucking heaven, Angel.”

Her body welcomes me.

Like it knows me.

Like it was made to fit against mine.

Soft curves, plush and sweet, wrap around me with heat that damn near undoes me.

Every roll of her hips drives me deeper, every moan she lets out pushes me closer to the edge.

I start to move. Slow and deep at first. Letting her feel all of me. Letting me feel all of her.

She clings tighter.

Her legs hook around my waist, and I swear, it feels like she’s pulling me deeper than anyone ever has.

And not just physically.

Something about her.

Something inside her.

It all feels like home.

Like maybe I spent my whole life wandering in the dark, looking up at the stars and wishing.

And now—now I’m inside one. My own wish upon a star dream come to life.

“Balor,” she breathes again, and fuck, the way she says my name like it means something— like I mean something —shatters the last of my walls.

I thrust harder, faster, and she arches for me, her breasts pressing to my chest, her skin slick with heat.

My mouth finds her throat, her collarbone, the soft curve of her breast. I kiss her like I need her to live.

Because maybe I do.

Her moans are getting louder now. Higher.

I slide a hand between us, thumb circling her clit, and she jerks beneath me.

“You gonna come for me again?” I growl. “You gonna let me feel you break around me, Angel?”

“Yes—yes—please!”

Her head falls back, and I watch her fall apart a second time— tightening, trembling, her walls squeezing me like a fucking vise.

I can’t hold back anymore.

I grip her hip, thrust once, twice more—then I come, hard, buried so deep inside her there’s no telling where she ends and I begin.

I groan her name into her skin, my entire body tensed as I spill into her, like maybe I can pour everything I’ve ever felt for her into this one moment.

Because this isn’t just sex.

This is everything.

The hunger. The fear. The hope I swore I didn’t have left in me.

I collapse on top of her, too damn spent to move.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m on the outside looking in.

I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

With her.

I don’t know how long we’re like that.

All I know is I don’t want to leave— her warmth, her sweet body, her presence in my life —not ever.

Wrapping my arms around her feels like the most important thing I’ve ever done.

We’re tangled together, sweat-slick and panting, her body soft and perfect against mine.

My chest rises and falls like I just ran through fire and survived.

I’m still inside her.

My cock is buried deep in her soaked pussy, and we’re a mess— wet, hot, the evidence of both our orgasms dripping down my balls.

And I don’t give a single fuck.

Because I’m already hard again.

Still thick.

Still aching.

Still desperate to have more of her.

I cup her face gently, my rough thumb tracing over her cheek as I wait for her eyes to meet mine. When they do, it hits me like a punch to the ribs.

Those eyes.

They’re everything.

Bright and stormy and trusting. She looks at me like I’m not broken.

Like I’m something good.

And that, my friends, is a fucking first.

When I lean in to kiss her this time, it’s not gentle. It’s not polite.

It’s claiming.

Because God, I don’t think anything in this world feels as good as kissing Lucy Volkov.

Except maybe fucking her.

And I’m doing both.

I move inside her again— slow at first, shallow thrusts just to feel her around me.

She moans into my mouth, and I swallow the sound.

Greedy for it. Needing every little gasp like it’s oxygen.

Like if she stops making noise, I’ll stop breathing altogether.

She’s still sensitive— her body trembling, oversensitive —but she wants it. Wants me. She can’t deny it. Can’t lie to me.

Her hands clutch at my back, her hips tilting to meet every movement I make, and the sounds coming out of her throat are choked, high, desperate.

Like she’s never been touched like this.

Like no one’s ever taken her all the way.

Fucking hell.

It makes me proud. Makes me want to pound my chest like some primal bastard.

It also makes me want to hunt down every man who’s ever touched her and end them.

What kind of fucking moron gets a taste of this woman and leaves her unfinished?

Assholes. All of them.

They don’t deserve her.

Don’t deserve to breathe the same air.

But I’m not thinking about them now.

I push every thought out of my head except her.

The way she feels.

Silky. Soft. Soaked.

Dripping around me and gripping my cock like she was made for it.

She’s clutching at me like she needs me more than her next breath.

I get it.

Because I feel the same fucking way.

“Balor!” she gasps, voice shaking. “It’s too much.”

But she’s pulling me closer. Legs tightening. Arms wrapping around my neck like she’s anchoring herself to the only solid thing in the world.

“I got you, Angel,” I grunt, dropping my forehead to hers, breath ragged. “Let go. Let me in.”

Then I lose it— thrusting into her hard and fast, pistoning my hips with a growl that vibrates from my chest into hers.

Her back arches, nails digging into my shoulders, and she’s so close. I can feel it.

“Balor, please, please,” she cries, breathless and wild.

And I swear, I’m fucking high on the sound of her voice, on the way she says my name like a prayer and a curse all in one.

“Gimme that orgasm,” I growl, teeth gritted, eyes locked on hers. “It’s mine. I want it. Now.”

She lets out a broken sob, thighs shaking, and then she breaks.

Hard.

She crashes around me, pulsing and clenching and crying out as I drive into her like I’m carving her name into my soul.

And I follow her, roaring through my release like a man possessed.

Because I am.

Possessed by her.

And there is nowhere else I want to be.