Page 93 of Haunt Me, Maybe

Not sharp like before. Not sudden. Just…relentless. A thick pressure that bloomed wider and wider as he sank in, slow and unyielding. I gasped and broke more nails against the tree.

It felt like he was rearranging me from the inside, every inch forcing my walls to open, to take.

“Easy,” he murmured against my ear, voice sounding as wrecked as I felt. “Breathe for me, Trouble.”

I tried. But my inhale was shaky, and my exhale was more of a shudder. Wes rocked forward, and the blunt pressure grew into a burn.

“Your body is begging for more. Begging for me.”

That may have been true. But it fucking hurt.

“I can’t—I—” My voice cracked.

Wes froze instantly. Buried in what felt like only halfway, his hips locked, and every muscle in his frame went rigid with restraint. The hand on my hip gentled at once, and his thumb swept soft, soothing arcs over the bone.

“Is it too much?” His lips brushed my temple. “We can stop. Right here. Say the word.”

I shook my head, and my hair stuck to my damp cheek.

“No. Don’t—don’t stop.” My breath hitched again as I pushed back experimentally, taking another inch. The burn flared fresh, then settled into something hotter, fuller. “You’re just…big. Really fucking big.”

A rough exhale ghosted my neck. “Yeah.” He sounded almost pained himself. “I know.”

He didn’t thrust again. Not yet. Instead, he wrapped both arms around me from behind, one bending low across my stomach to steady me while the other slid up between my breasts to curl gently around my throat.

His mouth found the side of my neck and pressed open, wet kisses there. Slow and tender. Like he was trying to kiss the sting away.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “Taking me like this. So tight and perfect and mine.” Each word was punctuated with the softest rock of his hips—tiny, shallow movements that let me adjust without overwhelming. “Tell me when it eases.”

I whimpered and nodded. The initial sharp ache was already fading, melting under the slow grind and the warmth of his voice in my ear. Wes rocked forward, and another thick inch slid home. My body softened around him; muscles fluttering and then yielding.

“Look how you take it. Greedy little thing.”

I felt trapped on a precipice. Split open, needing him to move, but⁠—

“Please,” I begged.

He gave it to me. One long, firm thrust, until his hips met my ass and every impossible inch of him was seated deep inside me. We both groaned; low, broken sounds that tangled together.

His forehead dropped to rest between my shoulder blades. “You feel that? All of me buried inside you. God, Aven…”

I did. I felt everything—the heavy throb of him, the way my walls hugged him so tight it almost hurt again, the dull, delicious ache of being stretched to my limit. Tears pricked my eyes from the overwhelming fullness.

The intimacy of it. My whole body quaked, but the burn had melted into something else entirely. A heady pleasure that pulsed in time with his heartbeat inside me.

Wes remained still, letting me feel it all. Letting me adjust. His arms wrapped tighter around me, one hand lightly pushing on my stomach so I felt the bulge of him in my belly.

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

A single finger slipped down between my thighs, finding my clit with devastating accuracy. He rubbed gentle circles, keeping pressure that turned the lingering sting into pleasure.

The first real roll of his hips was careful—a long, measured drag out, then slow glide back in. I moaned, head tipping back as each sensation folded into the next.

“Better?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

“Much.”

He growled low in his throat, and the rhythm built slowly. Deep, gentle thrusts that rocked me up onto my toes; each one pulling a gasp from my lips. The ache was still there, a faint edge beneath the pleasure, but it only sharpened everything.