JUNE POV
He still hadn't moved.
Not properly.
He was inside me—completely, deeply—but motionless. His hand was still at my lower back, holding me bent over the counter, while the other lazily circled over the back of my thigh, sending pulses through already burning skin.
I couldn't breathe.
Every second dragged with a taut kind of agony—him filling me, stretching me, holding me there without giving what I needed most. My hands gripped the edge of the sink so tightly, my knuckles had gone white.
And then his voice.
Right beside my ear.
Low, firm, and devastating.
"Do you even realize how good you feel around me?"
I whimpered, my hips twitching for more, and the sound only made him chuckle darkly.
"You're so tight, baby," he murmured, finally drawing back—slowly, just an inch—"like you were made for this. For me."
My breath stuttered out.
And then, suddenly, he thrust forward again. Hard.
