Chapter 37

Vivian

He impales me in one smooth move. I gasp. I thought I was prepared for it, but when the pain twangs through my center, it takes me by surprise. A short, sharp, burning sensation rips through me.

His gaze widens. The shock in them makes my cheeks flame. I wanted this. Wanted to feel Q inside of me. I was beginning to think I"d never have it. And it feels strange, but also amazing.

Clearly, he doesn't share the sentiment, for he scowls at me. I sense the question in them even before he growls, "You're a virgin?"

I tip up my chin. "The term hymen comes from the Greek, for membrane. There is little to no evidence that it provides any benefits or functionality to your body. Not all women are born with a hymen." I hear my words and realize how absurd my stream of consciousness sounds, but I want him to know how little it matters. How I wasn"t hiding anything from him. That I want this, and nothing, especially not a societal construct, is going to stop me from having it.

The lines around his eyes soften. He regards me with a serious expression on his face. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I'll take care of you, I promise." He lowers his head and kisses my forehead.

I swallow. The promise in his eyes when he looks into mine turns my insides to mush. My belly quivers. My pussy flutters, and when I squeeze my inner muscles, his cock swells further.

He's too much. Too big. Too everything.

He stays poised on his arms, his biceps bunching, the ropes of muscles on his shoulders standing out in relief.

There's a tension rolling off his big body, an intensity to the sharp edges of his features, a ferocity to how he watches me, which borders on desperation. There's a tortured look on his face, sweat dampening his forehead running in rivulets down the valley between his pecs. The remnants of whatever horror he saw in his nightmare are gone from his eyes, replaced by one-hundred percent lust. He throbs inside me, stretching my channel, pushing against my inner walls. I feel swallowed, consumed, surrounded by him.

He stays there, jaw hard, teeth gritted. "Do you know what it does to me to find out I'm your first?"

I shake my head, unable to speak. I want to tell him so much. I want to explain how I reached the age of twenty-three without a sexual partner...

But also, I'm glad he's my first.

His lips curl. "It makes me want to fuck you until you can't walk straight.

"Q…" I squirm under him. The earlier pain has receded, replaced by a churning hunger. I tilt my hips, then lock my ankles about his waist. I dig my heels into his back, trying to urge him to move.

He clicks his tongue. "Bad Raven. No topping from the bottom, baby."

"But I want you to fuck me."

"And I will, once I know you're ready."

"I am ready," I pout. I sound so whiny, so needy. But I don't care. I want him to get on with it already.

"Q, please. Please, please, please, I beg you."

My words must please him, for the smile disappears from his face. He sets his jaw, then pulls back, balancing at my entrance for a beat. Then another, before he propels his hips and sinks inside me to the hilt.

My groan mixes with his, and he stays there, buried inside me, with his balls resting against my cunt.

A shudder spirals up my body. I can feel him in my throat; I'm not kidding. I make a sound between a sob and a moan, and his blue eyes grow so dark, it feels like I"m looking at an azure galaxy of stars. Sweat trails down the valley between my breasts.

I feel connected to him in a way I haven't with anyone else, which makes sense. It's a feeling I don't have a name for, but I know it has changed me forever.

"You feel so good." His throat moves as he swallows. It's the only sign that perhaps, this is more than a carnal act for him too. And when he captures my mouth with his in a long deep kiss, I'm sure he feels this connection between us too.

Hope blooms in my chest. This is more than fucking... This is my husband making love to me, and he senses the enormity of the emotions that bind us. My heart feels as full as my pussy.

Without breaking the connection of our mouths, he pulls out, then thrusts into me again. My already sensitized channel seems to catch fire. The chafing of his thickness against my walls sends frissons of sensations dancing through my blood. Dragonflies flutter in my belly. Birds take flight in my chest. It's overwhelming how every cell in my body has flowered and is reaching for the sun…

He picks up speed, and I throw my arms around his neck and hold on. Each time he rams into me, my body scoots up the bed. The frame slaps into the wall. He puts the strength of his entire body into the way he pistons into me. Over and over again.

And I love it. And want more of it.

I'll never get enough of his fucking me. Never feel more complete than when he's inside of me. Never feel more powerful than when he's taking from me, and sating his need for me, and pushing me toward that distant place where everything is bright and gold and waiting for me.

Ohgod. Ohgod. Ohgod.I'm burning up. I'm on a spaceship headed from some distant planet. Sex with him is everything I hoped for, and more. Thank God, I waited for him. I'll never feel this way with anyone. Never. Except with my husband.

His cock thickens further, and the next time he pushes into me, he hits a spot deep inside me that sends shocks of rapture dancing across my nerve-endings. I open my mouth to cry out, but no sound emerges. He seems to understand, though, for he wrenches my hand from his neck and slams it into the mattress. He twines his fingers with mine, and the connection, along with how he never breaks the connection between our eyes, awakens something in my soul.

I can't come—not yet; not until he allows me to. He may not have stated it aloud, but his possession of my body demands I ask for his permission.

A warmth seeps into my blood, even as a part of me grows impatient. That darkness inside me ebbs and flows, then submits to him. I feel cherished because he owns my orgasms. I want him to own all of me.

I hold his gaze as I hover on the precipice... Waiting... Waiting…

And he understands without my saying a word, for he growls, "Come."

And that's all it takes for the climax to crash into me. When I cry out, he places his mouth over mine, swallowing the sound. My orgasm splinters into a thousand stars, the kaleidoscope of colors ebbing and flowing. As they fade away, I'm dimly aware of him fucking me through the aftershocks before he shudders and yells out his own release.

I close my eyes and float away into the most dreamless sleep I"ve had in years.

I wake up in the early hours of the morning to find his face between my legs again. As he licks my cunt and sips at my pussy lips and laps at my clit, a honeyed thickness suffuses my senses and turns my brain cells to mush.

The dawn light turns the raven on his back into an ethereal bird of prey as his muscles ripple, or perhaps, that's the imagination of my sleep-deprived, very lust-overwhelmed brain. With the last remnants of my coherent mind, I take in the bricks of muscles on his body, the sheen of sweat on his shoulders, the give of the planes on his back as he continues to eat me out. And when he slides two fingers inside my forbidden back hole, I instantly orgasm. My last recollection is of him climbing up my body and kissing me until everything fades to black.

When I wake up next, the sun is pouring through the windows, and I"m alone in the big bed. My shoulders slump. He left me alone on the first morning of starting our life together as husband and wife?