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“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, don’t stop.”

I didn’t. Death himself couldn’t stop me as I stroked her slowly, gently, watching her face as her pleasure built. She was so responsive, so honest in her reactions. Every gasp, every moan, every arch of her body told me exactly what she needed.

And I wanted to give it to her.

I wanted to give her everything.

I slid one finger inside her, slowly, carefully, as she cried out, her back arching off the bed. She was tight, so impossibly tight. Hot and wet and perfect. I groaned at the feel of her pussy walls as they clenched around my finger, sucking my finger in deeper, at the way her body gripped me.

“Salvatore,” she gasped as her hands fisted in the sheets.

I added a second finger, stretching her gently, and she moaned. A sound of pleasure mixed with something else. Discomfort, maybe. Uncertainty. I stilled immediately.

“Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice rough.

“No. It’s just... it’s a lot. But don’t stop. Please.”

I moved slowly, carefully, letting her adjust. My thumb found her clit and circled it gently. She gasped, her hips lifting to meet my hand. I worked her like that, my fingers inside her, my thumb on her clit until she was writhing beneath me, making sounds that drove me absolutely insane.

My own body screamed for release. My cock was so hard it was painful, my heart raced, my skin was on fire, but I ignored it all. This was about her. About making her feel good. About showing her what it meant to be worshipped.

I could feel her getting closer to the edge. I felt the way her body tensed, the way her breaths became ragged, the way she clenched around my fingers. I increased the pressure on her clit, curled my fingers inside her, and she shattered.

She came with a cry that she tried to muffle against my shoulder, her body convulsing, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around my fingers. I worked her through it, my touch gentle as the waves subsided, and when she finally went limp beneath me, I withdrew my hand carefully. She was flushed, trembling, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and I couldn’t look away.

She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

“That was…” she started but couldn’t seem to finish.

“Just the beginning,” I said, then kissed her.

I stood and stripped off the rest of my clothes. My shirt, pants, boxers, and when I was finally naked, I saw her eyes widen as she took me in. My cock was hard and heavy, straining toward her, and I could see the flicker of nervousness cross her face.

“We’ll go slow,” I promised, settling back over her. “If it hurts, you tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

I positioned myself between her thighs, the head of my cock pressing against her moist entrance. For one minuscule second, I closed my eyes and breathed through the overwhelming need to just thrust forward and bury myself inside her. But I didn’t. I held still, letting her feel me, letting her adjust to the idea of it.

“Ready?” I asked as I looked down at her.

“Yes.”

I pushed forward slowly, just the tip, as the heat of her—Christ, the heat—made me groan. She was so tight, so impossibly tight, and I had to force myself to go slow, to give her time to adjust. I pushed in another inch, then another, and she gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

“Breathe,” I told her. “Just breathe.”

She did, and I felt her body relax slightly. I pushed in further, slowly, carefully, until I was halfway inside her. She was gripping me like a vise, her body clenching around me, and it took every ounce of control I had not to just slam forward and take her completely.

“Are you okay?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Yes. Keep going.”

I pushed in the rest of the way in one slow, steady thrust, and when I was finally fully seated inside her, buried to the hilt, her body stretched around me, I had to stop and just breathe. The sensation of her was overwhelming. She was so hot, so tight, so perfect. I could feel every inch of her wrapped around me, could feel her pulse fluttering against my cock.

“Fuck,” I growled deeply. “Madigan, you feel... Christ, you feel incredible.”

She made a small sound, half pleasure, half discomfort, and I held still, letting her adjust. I could feel her body slowly relaxing around me, could feel the tension easing. And when she finally shifted her hips experimentally, I groaned.