SLOANE
He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance. He started to push inside—slow, so slow, so careful. The stretch was immediate and intense, a sharp, burning ache that made every muscle in my lower body clench instinctively.
“Easy,” he soothed, freezing mid-motion. “Breathe with me, Sloane. Just breathe. Relax for me. Let me in.”
I forced air into my lungs, consciously unclenching. He pushed forward again—a fraction of an inch at a time. The burn stayed, but it began to shift, blending into a deep, full pressure that was starting to feel… different. Not good yet. Just… different.
He watched my face the whole time, eyes dark with focus and worry. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” I gasped. “Keep going.”
He did. Inexorably. Filling me inch by agonizing inch until I felt split open, stretched
