Something Good
Serafine POV
His hands move and grip my thighs again, pushing them open as he positions himself between them, the way he had last night. Only last night he took. Today, he seems to be wanting to teach me something.
His mouth stays on mine for a bit longer before he pulls back. His body presses mine deeper into the mattress, and his weight is warm, solid and inescapable. His hands move with controlled precision. traces the curves of my hips, sliding down my thighs before he grips them more firmly. His touch is steady in a way that’s not rough, but he’s not hesitant in his movements either. He knows what he is doing and how to position me perfectly beneath him and part my legs to make room, but it’s not with force this time. It’s soft and tender.
I get ready for last night, for the brutal and unyielding claim. I get ready for him to take what he wants without a care for anything else or even for me. For some reason, though, this feels different. He’s not rushing. He isn’t forcing himself inside of me without any warning or thought. There’s a control to him, and it’s something I can’t fully understand or comprehend. The moment I feel the thick press of him at my entrance, my body tenses. The soreness from last night still lingers, it’s a dull ache that reminds me of the way that he took me. The way he took what he wanted without a thought or even concern for anything other than his own satisfaction.
I brace myself for the same pain and the same sharp stretch that had burned through me, but he doesn’t push in all at once. He doesn’t thrust hard. He takes his time. His grip on my hips is firm still as he slowly begins to press forward, giving my body time to adjust to the size of him, inch by inch.
Trying to force myself to stay still and not react fails because the feeling is overwhelming. The stretch is still intense and borders on discomfort, but it’s not the same as before. There’s no sharp sting of flesh tearing. There’s also no forceful thrust that makes my breath catch with pain. Instead, there’s a slow and steady invasion. It has my muscles clenching involuntarily, and my fingers curl into the sheets beneath me.
Xander watches me carefully. His eyes are still dark and unreadable as he moves. His breathing is deep and controlled, and I notice that his jaw is tight as he sinks even deeper into me. His body is tense with restraint now, and I realise he’s holding himself back. He’s trying to keep himself from slamming into me the way he had last night. His grip on my hips tightens even more, his fingers pressing into my skin, but he still doesn’t rush.
I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I’m his. In our world, that gives him the right to do what he wants.
When he’s finally fully inside of me, a deep groan rumbles through his chest. His grip on my hips tightens even more, as though he’s struggling to restrain himself and stop himself from moving too fast and too hard.
My breathing is uneven, and my body trembles beneath him as I try to process the feeling of him stretching and filling me completely. I try to process the way he’s forcing me to take every inch of him without the punishing pace I was expecting that matched last night.
His lips brush against my jaw again, then down to my neck, his breath is warm as it hits my skin, and now he begins to move. Each thrust is slow but deep and drags against every sensitive part of me, making sure I feel every inch of him as he takes me. My hands move without permission, grasping his shoulders. My nails dig into his skin as my body tightens against him, but not with pain. It’s something else, something unfamiliar that makes my stomach twist. It’s something I would rather never acknowledge.
Xander stays quiet; his grip on me never wavers. One of his hands moves over my body, tracing the dip of my waist and the curve of my stomach. It’s like he’s learning my body in a whole new way. He doesn’t take my body; he explores it, mapping out every reaction and every tiny shift that my body makes, as if he’s searching for something deeper.
“You’re gripping me so tightly,” he murmurs. His voice is lower and rougher, but there’s not a single bit of cruelty in it like there was last night. His lips brush against the hollow of my throat as he thrusts deeper, forcing a gasp from my lips. “Your body is responding to me, Serafine.”
My head shakes in denial, but the way he moves, and the way he feels inside of me, it makes it impossible to fight. Heat pools low in my stomach, and it coils tightly, spreading through my limbs like a fire. It’s so foreign and terrifying; it’s a sensation that I was never supposed to feel and certainly never experience.
His pace begins to increase, still controlled but more intense and deliberate now. His hands continue to roam over my body, exploring, stroking and touching where no one has ever touched before. It makes me feel things that I don’t want to feel. I fight back the feelings clawing inside of me, refusing to give them nower. My breath hitches, and my body arches involuntarily. He groans against my skin at the re “Let go,” he commands, his voice is thick with don much closer to something I don’t understand. “Stop fighting it.”
Successfully unlocked!
shoulder.
t are now harder and sharper, pushing me so
I want to resist. I actually want to push him away and tell him that he’s wrong, that my body isn’t reacting and that I feel nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. I can’t, though. My body betrays me with every movement and every pulse of heat that
Something Good
tightens in my core. It betrays me with every shudder that escapes me and every whimper that claws its way out of my mouth as he pushes me closer to the edge.
Xander feels it, and he knows what it means. His grip on me tightens, and his thrusts become more demanding. He’s pushing, pulling and forcing me to surrender to the pleasure that I was never meant to experience. The pressure inside of me finally snaps, my body finally giving in completely to the feels. My release crashes over me in waves that shake me to
my core.
Xander follows, his body tenses against me, his grip almost bruising as he thrusts deep one final time, his release spilling inside of me, and claiming me all over again in another way.
His breathing is ragged, and his body is heavy against mine, but I barely register any of it. My mind is spinning wildly, my body still trembling, and the aftershocks of what just happened have left me feeling numb.
I don’t move or even speak; I can’t. Now, what terrifies me the most isn’t that Xander took me again, but that this time, he made me want it and crave far more.
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