Page 165 of Trove’s Purpose

But before she could do more than whimper in dismay, her hips jerking, searching for more to replace what was lost, he moved. He took her hips and their offer and jerked her down. Slamming her onto his cock that stood so proudly from his lap. Filling her in an instant.

And the rush of white hot pleasure made her scratch and cling to him, her body thrashing and struggling as he used her hips as a grip, jerking her up and down.

He groaned, dropping onto his back. She struggled to find her own rhythm, her nerves going haywire from the pleasure, but still wanting to ride him. Wanting to feel his length inside her. His claws in the skin of her hips. His abdomen rubbing against her clit.

“Yes,” he growled, looking at her with such raw, undisguised hunger.

She rode him to another climax. This one more devastating than the last. She lost control of herself, flopping forward onto him.

But that didn’t stop Trove. He used the grip on her hips to hold her, to keep her in position, as he pistoned his own hips up. Thrusting into her from below.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She was too sensitive. She was crying. Scratching at him. But she wouldn’t ask him to let her go. She never wanted it to end. The sweet agony. The painful pleasure. The feeling of her nerves all being overridden and exploited until her mind turned to mush, until she was nothing more than a vessel for him to claim. Something to use to pleasure himself.

And she loved it.

It was such a strain on her body, but she bore it as long as possible. When he rolled them over and folded her in half. When he pulled out, tossed her on her belly, and jerked her hips up so he could pound into her from behind.

He would stop every so often, pull out, and use his fingers to torment her with pleasure. Extending his own orgasm. Edging himself at the same time that he ruined her with her own sensitivity.

By the time he came, holding her in his arms, kissing her, deep in missionary position, she nearly sobbed in relief. He grunted and groaned, going tense over her, filling her completely. The heat of his cum, the pressure of his knot, the weight of his body crushing into her.

She continued to twitch and tremble long after he had recovered. But she still didn’t have to think. She didn’t have to worry.

He took care of her. After riding the high of his own orgasm, he then turned his attention to cleaning her up. Getting her settled in the bed, moving aside the clothes he had absolutely ruined and tucking them both in. He held her close, kissing, stroking, adoring her.

It took a long time for her to come down after sex with Trove. He completely overloaded and reset her entire nervous system. Coming back after something like that was a journey in and of itself. And though she wasn’t sleeping, she was dozing.

Relaxing.

Happy.

So unbelievably happy.

The last of her worries, the final shackles weighing down her soul, all of was it taken away. Dealt with. Gone. Eased.

“What is this?” Trove asked softly.

“Hm?”

He started. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were asleep.”

Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even, her body limp and unmoving. She could forgive him for thinking she was asleep. She was floating right there on the border, easily able to go over one side or the other depending on whatever she wanted.

The question he asked was a whisper. Barely audible over his heartbeat in her ear. And he clearly hadn’t intended for her to hear it.

But she did hear it, and she was curious.

“What is what?” She asked, snuggling into him, still debating if she was going to go to sleep or wake up. She was okay with either option, really.

Trove didn’t answer immediately. And when he finally did speak, his voice was so quiet, she might not have heard him at all if there was any other sound to drown him out.

“This feeling… I don’t know what it is.”

“Hm… Is it a good one or a bad one?”

“Good,” he answered immediately. “It’s very good. It’s like happiness… but softer. It’s like love… but gentler. When I’m with you, it’s like everything is where it’s supposed to be, and it’s satisfying, but it’s not showy or triumphant.”

“Ah,” she breathed softly, deciding that maybe she wanted sleep after all. “It’s home.”