Page 7 of Chains and Vows

And I've never wanted anything more.

I feel his cock pressing against my ass, that heavy weight and heat making my breath catch somewhere between anticipation and nerves. My face is buried in the pillow, hands fisting the sheets. Legion runs his palm down my spine like he's trying to gentle a spooked horse, and I can't help the shiver that follows his touch.

"You're so perfect like this," he murmurs, his fingers trailin’ down to trace the curve of my hip. "Spread out for me."

His hand dips between my legs, finding me still slick and swollen from before. He slides his fingers through my folds, gathering my wetness, making me moan into the pillow as the oversensitivity borders on too much.

I'm already on edge, my body still hummin’ from the previous orgasms.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he says, working my clit in slow circles that have my thighs tremblin’. "That's it, baby. Let me get you ready."

I feel him drag his slick fingers up to my ass, circling that tight ring of muscle with practiced patience. The pressure is gentle but insistent as he works one finger inside, then two.

The burn is there—that strange stretch that walks the line between pleasure and pain—but Legion moves slowly, letting me adjust to each new sensation.

"Breathe, Savannah," he says, his voice lower now, that rough edge smoothed away into somethin’ almost tender. "Just relax and breathe for me."

I force myself to exhale, to release the tension I didn't realize I was holding in my shoulders, my back, my thighs. As I do, his finger slides deeper, and the burn transforms into something else—a fullness that makes me push back against his hand, wantin’ more.

Then his fingers are gone, and I feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance instead. My breath hitches, a small sound escapin’ my throat.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Legion says, and I can hear the strain in his voice—the control it's taking him to go slow. "So fucking pretty like this. Just for me."

His words settle somethin’ in me. Not because they're what any woman wants to hear, but because they're genuine. Legion doesn't say things he doesn't mean. Never has. Even when we were teenagers, he'd sooner stay silent than lie to me.

"I've got you," he promises, one hand grippin’ my hip while the other slides around to find my clit again. "Always got you."

His fingers circle my clit as he begins to push inside me, just the tip at first, letting my body accommodate him inch by agonizin’ inch. The stretch is intense and I gasp into the pillow, my knuckles going white around fistfuls of comforter.

"That's it," Legion encourages, his voice tight but steady. "Take me, Savannah. You're doing so good. So fuckin’ perfect."

I hover in that space between the sharp bite of intrusion and the promise of pleasure, not quite sure which side I'll land on. Legion's fingers work my clit steadily, buildin’ that familiar tension low in my belly even as he continues to press deeper inside me.

"Look at you," he says, voice full of wonder. "Taking all of me. So fuckin’ brave."

His words ground me more than anythin’ else—remind me that I can trust him with my body, with all of me. Legion would never hurt me. Not really. Not in any way that matters.

The fullness is unlike anythin’ I've felt before—this exquisite contradiction of pleasure edged with pain that makes my breath catch in my throat. He moves with painstaking control, his body barely trembling with the effort it takes to go slow when I know he wants to drive into me with abandon. I'm caught between wantin’ him to ease up and needing him to push harder, my mind short-circuiting from sensations I can't quite categorize.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he breathes against my shoulder, voice strained.

Then his fingers pinch my clit, making my vision blur, and in that exact same moment, he slides all the way inside me. The twin sensations collide like lightnin’—I cry out into the pillow, a sound I barely recognize as my own.

Legion drops his weight onto my back, his chest pressed against me, his mouth at my ear. The change in angle has him impossibly deeper, and he's movin’ in earnest now—not the careful, hesitant thrusts from before but somethin’ more primal.

My body adjusts, opens, the initial burning discomfort melting away until all that's left is this overwhelming fullness, this perfect friction.

"That's it," he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck. "Take it all. You're perfect, Savannah. So fucking perfect for me."

His words wash over me like a physical touch. I feel myself pushing back against him, silently asking for more, harder, deeper.

"Please," I beg, not even sure what I'm askin’ for. "Legion, please—I need⁠—"

He straightens up behind me, his hands gripping my hips with bruisin’ intensity. The change shifts him inside me, and suddenly he's hitting somethin’ that makes white-hot pleasure shoot up my spine.

"This what you need?" he growls, driving into me with long, hard strokes. And then his fingers are strummin’ my clit with force. Forward and back, forward and back. Buildin’ the pleasure inside me until I'm moaning so loud, I'm absolutely certain the whole house can hear me.

"This what you're begging for?" He asks. Playing my body like an instrument.