Ross didn't move. He held himself inside her completely, his massive cock pulsing with restraint.
Every inch of him throbbed with the need to thrust, to take her hard—but he didn't.
Not until she was ready.
He kissed her again—slowly, sweetly—his lips brushing away the tears from her cheeks.
Then he moved lower, nuzzling her neck, pressing kisses along the curve of her throat, down to her trembling chest.
His tongue swirled gently around one of her sensitive nipples, then the other, lavishing attention until her ragged breathing began to steady.
Joan's hands relaxed slightly, moving from the sheets to Ross's back, her fingertips trailing over the hard lines of muscle there.
She could still feel every pulse of his thick cock buried inside her, stretching her walls to their limit—but her body was no longer fighting it.
Instead… it was beginning to accept him.
The initial burn had faded into a deep, intense fullness—strange and unfamiliar, but not unbearable anymore.
