The tip of his cock pressed right against her entrance—hot, thick, and maddeningly patient.
"Just the tip," he growled low against her ear, voice rough with restraint, his breath fanning the side of her neck.
Rymora didn't trust herself to think.
Her body burned. Ached. Demanded.
Her mind screamed that this was wrong, whispered all the things that should've stopped her—but her body?
'He is—he is a vam…'
Her body responded before reason could catch up.
She nodded once—sharp and fast—and pushed her hips forward, her breath caught in her throat as she felt him begin to push inside.
Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, only a soft, strangled moan slipping out as her walls stretched around him. The sound was involuntary, animalistic. It wasn't a voice, not words, but a noise that said everything.
Compared to what she had experience to Gregor it was like comparing a stone to a mountain.
All her senses were exploding with pleasure that she couldn't even stop if she tried.
