Page 75 of Saxon

"Terra…oh god, fuck, Terra—Jesus, Jesus, Terra—Terra!" His voice becomes…almost soft, for an instant. Tender, on the last repetition of my name.

It's the tone of absolute wonder as he comes inside me that triggers my own.

The universe detonates within me, lightning shearing through my pussy, bursting behind my eyes, shuddering in my spirit. I can't even cry out, can't scream, can't cry—I can't even catch my breath, so hard am I coming.

I feel the flood of his seed spread through me in a hot rush filling every corner of me. His cock pulses and spasms and my pussy matches each pulse and each spasm with my own, timed with his. He gasps in my ear, and I finally manage a breath, my explosive orgasm turning it into a breathless half-scream.

He turns my face to his and swallows it, trading my scream for his breath, kissing oxygen back into my lungs.

And fuck—that was just the first wave.

He spears into me again, and a ragged inhale becomes a whimper, becomes his name chanted— "Saxon! Saxon! Saxon!"

Echoed by his answering chant— "Terra! Terra! Terra!"

Another wave, a quake of orgasmic release shuddering through me, causing my pussy to clamp down harder than ever, ripping a scream out of me and a primal snarl from him.

Another burst.

Tears start in my eyes, and my gasp for breath is an undeniable sob, so many wildly intense emotions coruscating inside me that I can't breathe and can’t face them.

Still shaking with rolling, slowly subsiding aftershocks, I can only sob and whimper, knowing that I am irrevocably changed, that if Saxon doesn't feel the way I feel I'll be not just broken or shattered, but utterly obliterated.

This was not just sex.

He didn't fuck me.

We didn't just fuck.

It was so, so much more.

I need to get up. Need to move. Need to put space between us. Need to get away.

Fear—outright terror—slashes through me. He won't feel the way I feel. He can't. My mother left—I know, she died, but tell that to my feelings on the matter, which are still that of a five-year-old; to wit: abandoned. My father couldn't love me. No man has ever loved me. No man has ever done anything but fuck me over. Hurt me. Betray me. Even Ricardo left, although I understand I couldn’t have loved him then had he tried.

Get away.

I’ve got to get away.

Don’t Say It

Saxon

Terra scrambles off me, half-tumbling off the couch and scrabbling across the floor, hyperventilating.

There's no thought, only instinct. I lurch after her and scoop her up in my arms, and she still tries to escape, shaking her head, turning away, burying her face in her hands.