He settled over me, his heavy frame pinning me down, one hand braced beside my head. The other slid between us, guiding the thick, blunt head of his cock to my slick, swollen entrance. I felt the pressure—hot, insistent, enormous. My whole body tensed, every muscle locking in primal resistance. This was it. The moment.
"Look at me, Emma," he commanded, his voice rough velvet, cutting through my panic. My eyes flew open, locking onto his. "Breathe," he murmured, his thumb stroking my cheekbone, wiping away fresh tears. "Just breathe for me."
Then he pushed.
The pain was instantaneous. A sharp, tearing sting radiating inward, stealing my breath. It was nothing like the build-up from his mouth or his hands. This was invasion. A searing, impossible stretch as my untried body struggled to accommodate his size.
My back arched off the bed, a choked, guttural cry tearing from my throat—not pleasure, not yet. Just pain. Raw, bright, terrifying.
