Page 72 of Saxon

"I ain't exactly small, Terra. Want you ready for me."

I press my fingers against his and drive his into me. "Feel that? Feel how wet I am? I'm ready. I want you. I need you. Please, Saxon. Please."

"Fuck," he growls. "So fuckin' wet, so fuckin' tight."

"Imagine how I'll feel wrapped around this." I grip his hot, hard, throbbing cock and pump my fist down the length. "Imagine how tight I’ll be. How hard I can squeeze."

He grinds into my touch. "Fuck, Terra. Let go for a second, give me a minute to get control."

I fumble at his pants and underwear. "No. No, Saxon. No control. I don't want control. I want you hot and wild. I want you to come the second you get inside me."

"That's exactly what's gonna happen."

"Good. Because I'm gonna come too, the very second you're inside me. I can't wait. Please."

He kicks his pants and underwear down and off one leg. Toes them off the rest of the way, and he's naked. Fuck, I wish I could see him, but I refuse to move, to risk ruining this moment, to risk breaking this spell.

He's so earnest about our first time together being something…I don’t know. Formal, or whatever. I just want him.

I curl my arm upward and behind to cup the back of his head as his soft warm flesh presses against mine, his front to my back. I wish I was naked too, but it'd take too long to get the jacket and bustier off.

Saxon, however, has other ideas. He peels the jacket off, tosses it. Rips the bustier off—tosses it.

It's never felt this way—this good, this right, being naked with a man. Flesh to flesh, warmth against warmth. His hands cover my belly, petting and caressing—normally a place I'm uncomfortable being touched due to my insecurity, for some reason, his touch makes me feel beautiful, even there. One hand goes north, to my breasts, and the other south, to my pussy.

He covers my sex with his hand, palm over my seam. Just…holding. Claiming. He says nothing, but I feel the claim.

"Yes, Saxon," I murmur out loud. "Yours."

I reach behind me, grip his erection. "Mine.”

"Fuck." He pushes into my touch—his tip weeps. "The way you touch me, Terra, god. So fucking amazing. All you do is touch me and I just…I fuckin' lose it."

"Same." I press my ass against his belly. "Don't make me ask again."

He turns his face to press his nose and mouth into my palm. Together, we line ourselves up. I guide his cock to my opening and notch him at my entrance.

"Oh god," I whisper. "Saxon. Please."

"Don't need to beg anymore, baby. Although I like it when you do." He shifts his hips—just a nudge. A tease. "You want this?"

I growl, feral and annoyed. "Saxon, goddammit. Do not tease me."

"Just say my name again."

"Saxon." The breathy, desperate tone is not faked. Not at all.

The fat head of his cock splits me open, a tease of how he'll fill me. I want him to do it—I hold still. Wait. Refuse to move until he does.

And then…oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

He tilts his hips forward and drives into me. Fills me, fills me, fills me.

I cry out, putting my face to the couch to muffle the sound. Holy fuck, nothing could have prepared me for the reality of all that is Saxon Cabot inside me.

He glides in, and my pussy swallows him, takes all of him, inch by inch, slowly. His groan is an answer to my cry, and he seizes my shoulder with his teeth, muffling his groan. His palm covers my mouth, and I nuzzle and kiss and moan into his hand.

It lasts forever, his initial thrust into me. A beautiful eternity of his cock sliding into me, spreading me open, splitting me apart. It aches, almost hurts, but almost hurts so, so good.