Then just as soon as I began to get comfortable riding him, he flipped me again and slid all the way into me—as far as my body could take his massive cock. With every drive forward, bringing us together as one, I heard the squelching of my wetness as he stretched me.
Every pump made my eyes roll back into my head. I wanted desperately to close my eyes and be swept away—but he was what grounded me. He was what guided me. He stayed true to his word and, forcing my eyes to stay open and locked on his, I let him take me, show me, teach me.
His face was a study in raw tension. His eyes bore into me, his jaw locked and set as that vein I saw in his forehead earlier pulsed and bulged as if to burst and I wanted to tell it I understood how it felt.
He put his elbows on each side of me and kissed me as he ravished me—savage, intense, aggressive kisses that made my cheeks sting with the roughness of his stubble. There was no distance between our bodies; we were one in every way. From time to time, the pleasure would overcome me and the room would start to twinkle and shift, as if I had spent too long looking into a candle flame.
In those moments, I lost myself and gave into the pleasure of his strength and desire. It felt so good, I thought it must be a dream. But it wasn’t. It was him, in all his glory. My pleasure belonged to him forever.
“Fuck, Sara...” His voice was gruff, heady with exertion. “Come for me again. Let me hear you again. Your sounds… I’m so fucking drunk on you.” He doubled down with intensity, lingering inside me for one second, two, three, until I felt my body respond to him with throbs and flutters, and then the candle-flame blurriness overtook me again.
My spine rolled and I lifted myself right up off the sheets, only to come back down against his huge hands, gripping both of my butt cheeks, digging into the flesh, almost painfully yet the pleasure was what drove me on. Again and again he took me, and again and again I screamed his name into his shoulder as he grunted and growled and I felt possessed by a primal beast of a man I’d only met earlier this day.
I never imagined that anything could feel as good as having sex with Bors did. I surrendered wholly to his experience and expertise, and he ravaged me again and again that night, until I was a panting, messy, sated pile of sweat and cum.
Once he sensed my exhaustion, he pulled back slightly, still inside me but again on his knees. Caging me in with his massive arms, he changed his rhythm and his eyes got serious and darkly alluring. Wherever he had taken me with all that bliss, I could tell he too was heading there. It was crazy to think that he had the self-control to resist the inhuman pull of that pleasure, all for my sake. Though my hips were sore and my body tired, I opened my legs even wider for him as I ran my fingertips down his chest. With each thrust into me, my body responded by clenching tight around him. The tighter I clenched, the more his eyes grew glassy with desire.
“Oh fuck, fuck, Sara,” he said. He lowered his head and rammed into me with pounding thrusts that made the bed slam against the wall. “Fuck, yes. Tell me you’re ready to take my seed.”
I wasn’t. Ready wasn’t even a word in my vocabulary at that moment. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t describe how I felt about him, how I felt about his seed, and he needed to know that. “I was born for you. For this. It’s my only purpose, now and always.”
With a bestial roar, he unleashed his power into me. And as he did, I was taken to the brink of bliss and beyond.
Afterwards, he embraced me from behind, with his arms wrapped around my chest so that my bosom spilled out onto his forearm. His chin rested on my shoulder and my hips nestled in the cradle of his huge, solid body. “Marry me,” he said.
At first I thought he was joking, but when the silence stretched in the moments that followed I felt my heart clutch at the possibility. Me? Sara? Nobody wanted that of me. I tried to turn to look at him, but he held me so securely that I couldn’t turn at all.
“Just say yes. Don’t think about it. I’m not sophisticated or educated. I have no high ambitions. But I promise you, Sara, with all my heart, I will give you everything that is mine. I don’t deserve you. I’m in a drunken haze right now which gives me the courage to ask. Marry me, Sara.”
“Bors…”
“I promise to do my best, every day, to give you the joy you deserve and be the best man I can be for you. I know, we don’t go together. You’re so young, sent from heaven and I’m road worn, scarred and have visited hell. But, you will be my everything, I’ll be the man I always wanted to be because of you. I know I can.”
I pressed my lips to the inside of his huge, scarred bicep. I wanted so very desperately to say yes, right then and there. I wanted nothing more than to be his and his alone. I envisioned a life for us together in such vivid detail that I almost felt it had happened already. Like it was always meant to be.
But then my eyes fell on the windowsill, and the world beyond. I knew that right outside where we lay, all knitted up together in the simple glow of our love, loomed the world with all its difficulties, conflicts, and complications. And yet with my whole heart I wanted a fresh start with him, somewhere—anywhere. I was his. He was mine. And I was angry that anything made it more complicated than that. But if there was one thing that I had learned from my family it was that being angry at your situation didn’t change anything.
“In truth, I want nothing more. But life hasn’t taught me to expect happiness, or that just because I want something it can be so. Can I take some time?” I asked, tracing the veins on his arm with my fingertip, like the tributaries of some vast, powerful river. “Can I let fate guide me?”
He nodded, and his stubble scraped against my cheek. “As long as you aren’t turning me down right away, I might just be able to sleep,” he said, with a smile in his voice. He gripped me tighter, like I was his most cherished possession, and I felt his breathing deepen and slow as he drifted off to sleep.
Sleep didn’t come to me that night. He took me again, and again. Filling me with his sticky release until it dripped out of me and I couldn’t fathom life without these feelings.
Without him.
In between our lust, I lay awake in his arms, watching the patch of moonlight creep over the bed until dawn found us locked together. The impossibility of marrying him weighed heavily on me. As soon as I felt him stir in the morning light, I whispered his name.
“Shit, I feared it was all just a wondrous dream. Thank God for you,” he said sleepily. “Have you thought about what I asked?”
If only it had all been that simple—if only things could be as easy as our dreams. “I’ve thought about nothing else. But my father will never give me to you. He will never consent. You know how things work, I need him to consent or our union will not be legitimate. Nor would our children. I could not bear that shame. Nor shackle them with it.”
Bors’ muscles tightened at the mention of my father. “He doesn’t fucking deserve you. You know it.”
“Perhaps not, but he is my father. No matter how much I wish that he weren’t. I want to be yours, but it will never be with his blessing.” I rolled over in his arms to face him. His hair was messy from sleep, his eyes bedroomy and irresistible. Against my thigh, his cock was hard and ready. He pulled me to him for a kiss and I felt the wet rush warm my inner thighs yet again. “So run away with me.” I told him as he released me from the kiss. “Take me away from this place.”