Page 81 of Devil's Iris

Before I can protest, he’s already shifting forward, lining himself up with my core. His damp tip brushes against my entrance—hot and thick and terrifyingly big.

Oh. Oh. This is really happening. I’m really doing this.

But seriously,how is that going to fit?

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs soothingly, accurately reading my fear. “It’ll only hurt a little.”

A little, I repeat to myself.I can handle a little.

I gulp, nodding, eyes fixed on his penis.

“Look at me.” His voice is rough, commanding. I do as he says, and green flames burn into me. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, then pushes forward.

My breath hitches on a strangled sound. The stretch is sharp, tears sting my eyes, but I don’t look away from him. I can’t. His face contorts with pleasure as he sinks deeper, andthe sight consumes me more than the pain piercing through me.

Suddenly, he stops, holding perfectly still, his hands gripping my hips like he’s fighting for control.

“You’re… you’re in,” I whisper, blinking hard.

“Almost,” he pants, sweat beading on his temple. “Just a little more,amore.” Then, slowly, carefully, he slides deeper. Inch by inch. Filling me.Claimingme.

I cry out, head digging back into the mattress when he finally bottoms out, pelvis flush against mine, his cock pulsing so deep inside me I swear I feel him at the back of my throat.

He drops his forehead to mine, his body shaking with restraint. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he rasps. “Just breathe,bellezza. Let me love you.” His words tug on my heartstrings, and my lips part, emotions swirling wildly.

And then—he starts to move.

It hurt at first.

A dull, stretching pressure that makes my breath hitch and my nails dig into his arms. My thighs tremble around his hips, and somehow, every heartbeat between us feels like it’s synchronized with my own.

Romero stops immediately, like he can sense my pain. He stays buried deep, forehead pressed to mine, his hands warm on my hips, fingers digging so hard into my flesh I know I’ll have bruises there in the morning.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, voice tight, frayed at the edges. “Tell me now, and I’ll stop.”

“No,” I breathe, even as a tear slides down my temple. “Don’t stop. I want… I want you.”

His eyes search mine, something feral yet heartbreakingly sweet flickering in their depths. Then he kisses me. Slow. Lingering. As if to ease the sting, to soothe me. Only after that does he move again.

Shallow thrusts at first, barely more than a grind, but itlights something inside me. My nerve endings sing as the stretch transforms into sweet friction. The pain dissolves into heat, into hunger. My breath quickens, my legs open wider.

Yesss. This. This is…incredible.

He feels the shift in me—he has to, because his lips curve into a wicked smile, dark promises dancing in his eyes. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, rocking his hips again. “You feel it now, don’t you?”

I nod, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat, my hands clutching his shoulders. He groans, brushing my hair back as he begins to move in earnest. Long, deep thrusts that fill me completely.

His cock drags against every raw, sensitive inch inside me, and each retreat, each plunge back in, makes my walls cling tighter, craving more.

The burn fades as the now familiar pressure builds again, my body slowly catching fire. “Please,” I gasp, arching into him. “Romero, don’t stop.”

A rough groan rumbles from his chest, one hand slipping between us to rub my clit in slow, perfect circles while he thrusts deeper, harder.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growls. “So sweet. So perfect.So mine.”

His. I’m his.

His name falls from my lips in a chant as he picks up the pace, driving into me with a rhythm that matches the crashing waves outside. His abs clench, muscles flexing with every thrust, that dark tattoo on his arm rippling with the force of his movements.