And he did, driving into her with growing urgency, each movement pulling another sound from her lips.
He kept his pace steady, hips rolling in a deliberate, even rhythm. No rush. No urge to throw her off balance. It was her first time, and he wanted her to feel every inch of it, wanted it to sink into her body and stay there.
Each thrust carried heat and weight, and when he pulled back, that heat lingered in the air between them.
His hands stayed locked on her hips, thumbs pressing into her skin just enough to keep her steady.
He kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching the small changes, her brows pulling together, the way her lips parted with each breath, the faint tremble in her thighs when he shifted his angle just slightly.
"You're perfect," he muttered, voice low, rough around the edges. The words slipped out like a statement, not a compliment.
Before she could react, his mouth was on hers again. The kiss was slow but firm, deep enough to keep her locked in place.
