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Gabe smirks, all cocky and infuriating, and pushes in just a little more, stretching me, filling me so slowly. “You feel how perfect you are for me?” he rumbles. In one move, he buries himself so deep I actually see stars.
I gasp his name and clutch at his shoulders as pleasure flows through me. He’s so damn thick; I feel every inch, every ridge, and I swear he’s going to split me in two, and I freaking love it.
“Oh, God. Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop,” I babble. Gabe rumbles out a dark, filthy groan that causes my toes to curl. He rocks his hips, pressing deeper, and my body goes into a full meltdown.
“Fuck, Alice. You feel so good. So tight, just for me,” he growls in my ear. My body arches up to meet every relentless thrust. There’s nothing gentle about it now. He pins my wrists above my head with one big hand, holding me down, owning every inch of me. I freaking love it.
I can barely breathe. My brain completely short-circuits. All I know is his cock driving into me, filling me so deep I can’t even form a coherent thought. It’s just sensation. Every hard, deep thrust, every time he grinds against that spot inside me, my vision goes white at the edges.
We settle into a rhythm that’s both rough and tender. He pounds into me, each thrust harder than the last, but every time I gasp or whimper, he slows down, brushes his lips against my cheek, and murmurs, “You with me, coffee girl?” like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
At some point, I realize I’m babbling nonsense—his name, oh God, please, don’t stop, you feel so good—but he just grins, loving every second.
His voice is a ragged growl against my ear. "Tell me what you want, Alice," he grunts, sweat slicking his bronzed skin, his powerful muscles tensing with each controlled thrust. His eyes, dark with desire, lock onto mine, demanding an answer.
"Harder," I beg, my fingernails digging half-moons into his shoulders, my body arching desperately beneath his. "More. Please, Gabe, I need all of you."
“You own every bit of me.” And then he obliges, fucking me with a ferocity that knocks every thought out of my skull. The bed slams against the wall in time with his thrusts, and I’m glad we’re in the penthouse with no neighbors.
I dig my nails into his back, rake them down, and he shudders, the sound that escapes him more animal than man. He shifts, angling his hips, and suddenly he’s rubbing against my G-spot with every stroke. The pressure builds so fast, I can’t do anything except clutch him and hope I survive.
“Come for me,” he growls, and that’s it. I explode again, this time more intensely, a tidal wave that drags him right along with me. He grunts, driving into me hard and deep, and then he’s coming, cock pulsing, breath hot against my ear.
We collapse in a sweaty, tangled heap. I can barely move, but I don’t want to, not when his weight is pinning me to the mattress and his arms are caging me in.
We lie there for a few minutes, just breathing, and I think if I died right now, it would be with zero regrets.
He finally rolls off, pulls me close, and tucks my head under his chin. He’s still breathing hard, but there’s a softness to him now, like he’s let down a shield I didn’t know existed.
He runs his fingers through my hair, slow and lazy, and murmurs, “I’m never letting you go.”
My heart does a weird, happy flip, and I snuggle closer, pressing my lips to his chest.
“Good because I’m kinda addicted to you,” I whisper, and I mean it.
We lie like that for a long time. He traces patterns on my back, his touch gentle and reassuring. I’m too blissed out to overthink things, so for once, I just let myself be.
Eventually, I drift off, cocooned in warmth and afterglow and the weird certainty that this isn’t just a fling. This is the beginning of something real, something terrifying, something amazing.
