His eyes close, his lips curling in that wicked smile before he pushes forward—slowly, deliberately—giving me no choice but to take him. The stretch stings slightly, more of an ache than anything else, but my fingers claw at his shoulders as I gasp.
“Breathe,” he orders, his voice steady and firm, guiding me through it. “You can take it. Relax for me.”
I try, but my body is tense, trembling beneath him. He stops halfway in, giving me a moment to adjust, his hand massaging my hip in a way that feels soothing despite the iron control in his grip.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his tone softening just a fraction. “Let me in, Astra.”
I do—my body yielding without my permission—and he slides deeper, inch by inch, until he’s completely seated inside me. The fullness is overwhelming, almost too muc
