Page 114 of The Rust in Her Hair

I want to tell him yes please. That I’d love nothing more, but instead I reach up and fist a handful of his hair, dragging his mouth down to mine. I hold his eyes as I growl, "Mine."

Mack’s eyes flash with excitement then he carries me the few steps to the couch and sinks down onto it with me straddling his lap. I feel the thick, hot length of him settle against the curve of my ass, and my clit pulses at the feel of it.

He's so big, and I'm still so sore from last night, but I want this more than I have words for. I want him inside me. I want to belong to him the way I belong to Nico.

"Lift up, gorgeous." Mack lands two playful slaps to my hip. "Put me inside you."

Taking a deep breath, I do as he says, lifting slightly.

Mack lets me take the lead, his hands sliding to rest light on my hips. I reach between us and wrap my fingers around him, guiding the fat crown to my entrance, and then I sink down one inch.

The stretch is immediate and brutal, so much worse than Nico.

I wince, my breath catching hard in my throat, my body straining to open around something it isn't built to take.

"It’s okay. You can take it." Mack's fingers tighten on my hips, holding me steady, his green eyes locked on my face. "Take your time. We've got all the time in the world."

I breathe through it, sinking down another inch, then another, letting my body adjust to the impossible size of him. He watches me the whole way down, his jaw tight with the effort of holding still.

But he's so big, and my body keeps stalling out, and I want all of him. I want it more than the burn scares me.

"It’s okay," Mack whispers, his voice raw as he takes in the pain in my eyes. "We don’t have to do this. We can⁠—"

I plant my hands on his shoulders, and I drop.

I slam my hips down and take the last few brutal inches in one stroke. A sharp cry tips out of me. The stretch flares white-hot, too much, too fast, and my chin quivers as tears spring to my eyes. But he's inside me.

All of him, buried to the root, and I fucking did that.

Mack's big body locks. A vicious snarl rips out of him, his fingers clamping down on my hips, his head dropping back against the couch.

"Fuck!" The word punches out of him, wrecked. "Fuck, Lyra, you can't—" He sucks in a ragged breath, trembling all over. "You are so damn tight."

I try to smile at his words, but I'm so full I can barely think.

"Good lord." He licks his lips, still breathing hard. "I'm not gonna last long. You feel too good, and I'm barely hanging on as it is."

And the thought of him not being able to control himself does something wonderful inside me.

I start to move.

Slow at first, small rolls of my hips, adjusting the shape of him inside me, and Mack lets me set the pace, murmuring low the whole time.

"That's it." His fingers push into the curve of my hips. "God, you feel perfect." He looks down at where he’s stuffed inside me. "Look at all that slick," he whispers like he’s in awe.

I keep moving, and the burn eases with every roll, melting into something hot and deep and good. I still feel the occasional sting, but it mixes with the drag of his cock, making my clit pulse. I chase the feeling, riding him harder, my hands braced flat on the broad muscle of his chest.

Then Mack’s restraint snaps.

His grip tightens on my hips, and he takes over. He guides me up and pulls me back down, faster, until I'm bouncing on his cock, my breasts jolting with every stroke. He watches them for half a second, then leans in and catches one nipple in his mouth.

And he's rougher than Nico and Owen were.

Mack nips at the sensitive peak, catching it between his teeth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out and buck against him. It should be too much, but it's exactly enough.

I fist my hands in his hair and hold his mouth to my chest and ride him harder, wild with it now, the coil in my belly winding tight.

"Mack," I snarl his name. "I'm close. Don’t stop. I'm⁠—"