Granite stood straight at the end of the bed, and he slowly unbuckled his belt before slipping off his jeans. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t have been able to look away. Naked, he looked even more powerful, dominant…beautiful. Tattoos covered most of his body—different shapes, different images that were too hard to make out under the flicker of candlelight. But among them was one I could see clearly, an eagle across his chest. It seemed as magnificent as him, strong and majestic.
My gaze dropped to his cock, hard and proudly standing at attention as the head almost reached his navel.
He eased onto the bed, slipping his tongue against my leg as he moved up my body. My head fell back, new desire blooming inside me like flowers waking after winter. Up and up he went, and I felt the head of his cock brush against my leg.
As he moved, he slid his hand between my legs, dipping a finger inside me. “We need to make sure you’re still soaking wet for this, ballerina girl.”
No doubt, I was still wet, and with a satisfied smirk on his face, he lifted up and settled between my legs. Feeling his weight on top of me, the warmth of skin against skin, it was nothing like I imagined it. It was better—like two bodies molding together to become one. I never understood that analogy, of two bodies becoming one. But now I knew it wasn’t something to understand, it was something that could only be experienced. Two souls merging together, doing what our most primal instincts urged us to do.
I bit my lip, my heart about to explode when the head of his cock nudged against my entrance.
“I’m not going to lie,” he started, pushing forward just half an inch. “It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
Another tear trickled down my face. I’d be stupid if I wasn’t scared. Granite was a big man, and I was nothing but a tiny ballerina. My body would never survive his. We were like one giant contradiction, the two of us.
Gently, he wiped the tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. “But then I’ll make it feel really good afterward. I promise.”
“Don’t…do this.” It was a last attempt, my last try to stop him. I didn’t think I was ready to sell my soul to the devil, but he thought otherwise.
His hand wrapped around my jaw, and he forced me to look at him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this.”
Green eyes studied me, scrutinized me, searching my face like he could find all his answers there.
“Tell me this isn’t what you’ve wanted since the first time you looked down at me from your bedroom window.” He moved his hips slightly, a blunt pressure pressing between my legs.
“Tell me, Alyx.” His eyes never left mine, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. No matter how desperate my mind was to convince myself that this was not what I wanted…it was. This was what I wanted, what I’d fantasized about. Maybe not in this way or under these circumstances, but in the end, this was what I wanted. Because I wanted it with him. No one else. Granite was right. I had been his all along. From that very first moment our eyes met, it was him. It had always been him. There was no use denying it anymore. No use fighting it. Fighting what I could not change was tiring and pointless. So I succumbed.
I nodded, and his face softened as if a veil of relief fell over him.
“Just…I have one request.” I bit my lip before scraping together my courage. “Untie my hands. I want to touch you. I want to be able to wrap my arms around you, you know…when you do it.” I didn’t ask him to free my legs. He was right. It would lessen the struggle, and hopefully lessen the pain.
It took him a few moments. Thinking. Contemplating. Never taking his eyes off my face.
He moved, and with his big frame, he didn’t need to lift much in order to reach for his knife on the bedside table and then my wrists.
One by one, he cut the ropes. “Easy,” he cautioned as I slowly brought my arms down, my shoulders aching and complaining.
As he settled between my legs once more, I cautiously placed my hands on his shoulders. The instant I touched him, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. I felt a shiver spread down his body, and it was surreal to see what effect my touch had on him. A single, simple, soft touch, and this big, strong, dominating man seemed disarmed. Could this moment be just as powerful for him as it was for me?
He moved, and his hips bucked forward, causing more blunt pressure between my legs as his cock started to enter me.
My eyes pinched closed, and I gripped his shoulders tighter.
“Breathe,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”
Deeply, I inhaled, opening my eyes, and he pushed further.
“Jesus.” His head fell forward, long hair brushing over my skin, caressing my breasts. “I knew your pussy would be tight, but this is just,” he drove in deeper, “this is just…fuck.”
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and I saw the strain on his face. It was agony for him to go so slow. For a man who was hellbent on taking me—whether I succumbed or not—he was torturing himself in order to make it easier for me.
The protector.
The guardian.
I placed my hands on the sides of his face. “Kiss me.” Our eyes searched one another. “Kiss me, and then take everything you want from me.”
My lips were already hungry, wanting to feel his kiss, and I brought his face down. Granite kept still, his lips hovering over mine, as if there was a decision that needed to be made here. A decision that had the power to change both our lives. It was surreal how this started out with a man determined to spread my legs, whether I wanted him to or not, and now ended up being something bigger than either of us could have expected.