Page 35 of Resisting the Handsome Doctor
"That's a 'are you absolutely sure because once I start I don't know if I'll be able to stop.'"
"I'm sure." I spread my legs wider, an invitation. "I want this. I want you. All of you."
"Christ." He positions himself between my thighs, and I can feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. "Tell me if it hurts. Tell me if you need me to stop."
"I will. I promise."
He leans down to kiss me as he starts to push inside, and the pressure is immediate and intense. I gasp against his mouth, my hands flying to his shoulders, and he stops.
"Breathe," he says. "Just breathe. We'll go at your pace."
I take a shaky breath, trying to relax, and he eases in a little more. The stretch is bordering on painful now, and I must make a sound because he stops again.
"Should I—"
"No. Don't stop. Just... keep going. Slow."
He inches forward, and I feel the moment he breaks through, a sharp sting that makes me cry out.
Owen freezes. "Fuck. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. Just... give me a second."
He holds still, buried inside me, and presses kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. "You're doing so good. So perfect. Just breathe."
I breathe, focusing on his face, on the feel of him surrounding me, filling me. The pain is fading, replaced by a strange fullness. A sense of fulfillment.
And the heat… God, I can feel every inch of him, hot and hard inside me, throbbing slightly. It's so intimate, so raw, so much more than I ever imagined.
"Okay," I finally say. "Okay, you can move."
He does, pulling out slightly and pushing back in, and oh—
That's... that's good.
He sets a slow pace, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. But there's no pain now, just pleasure building with each thrust, each slide of his bare cock inside me.
"God, Ivy," he groans. "You feel incredible. So fucking tight and wet. Perfect. Like you were made for my cock."
I've never heard Owen talk like this, never imagined he could.
I love it.
Chapter 8 - Owen
I can't believe the words coming out of my mouth.
I'm not like this. I don't talk dirty. I'm the guy who says "making love" instead of "fucking" because it feels more respectful. The guy who keeps the lights off and stays quiet because that's what you're supposed to do.
But with Ivy… God, with Ivy sprawled beneath me, her hazel eyes glazed with pleasure, her body stretched around my cock, I can't control myself.
And she loves it. I can see it in the way her eyes go wide, the way her breath catches, the way her pussy clenches around me when I say something particularly filthy.
She's sweaty, her hair plastered to her forehead, and she's smiling. This dazed, blissed-out smile that's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Owen," she gasps. "Oh God, Owen, don't stop—"
"Never." I thrust deeper, harder, finding a rhythm that makes her cry out. "Never stopping. You feel too fucking good."
