I lost myself in the rhythm of his touch — the way his hands explored my skin with quiet desperation, as if trying to memorize the curve of my soul.
We moved together, a dance of tension and surrender, where every sigh, every gasp, every stolen breath drew us further into something we couldn't name — but we both knew we needed.
The fire's glow shimmered in his eyes as he looked down at me, our foreheads brushing, our hearts beating like twin drums of thunder.
"Iraya . . . ," he whispered, his voice shaking, "tell me this isn't a dream."
I answered him not with words, but with the kind of kiss that said everything I couldn't.
Because in that moment, nothing mattered but the way we came together — not as enemies, not as reluctant companions — but as two people who finally stopped running and met somewhere in the middle of longing.
I felt his cock stretch me wide - tear at my tender flesh like it was nothing but air.
