I force myself to exhale, to unclench and trust him. When I relax fractionally, he begins to move in shallow strokes, his thumb still working my c**t. When he adds a second finger, I whimper.
He kisses my hip bone in apology. “I know it’s a lot,” he murmurs against my skin. “But I need to prepare you, sweetheart. I have to make sure you can take me.”
He crooks his fingers inside me and his thumb starts to blur as he passes over my c**t faster and faster. I’m being wound up like a child’s toy, every gear and ratchet in me tightening, tightening, until—
“Mm. There it is,” he growls with dark satisfaction. “Let go. c*m on my fingers, Rae. Show me what you look like when you break.”
I do. I grab his wrist as I spasm hard, bucking and moaning his name. It feels like I’m being pushed throug
