She wrapped her soft thighs around his hips, and urged him against her core. He didn’t want to hurt her. Instead of stabbing ahead, he reached between their bodies and dipped his fingers inside her until they were well coated with her spending and spread the moisture over the head of his cock.

Using his fingers to stretch her open, he slid into position, his body shuddering with the strain of holding himself in check.

Go slow now. This is her first time. Take her gently. Give her time to adjust, to relax.

His breathing came in gasps. He was well seated now, halfway inside her. He rose up on his hands and looked down.

The sight of her stretched around him gave him a surge of lust and pride.

Her eyes flew open. “You stopped.”

“I’m going slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.”

A soft growl, deep in her throat. “I want you. All of you. Now.” Her hips surged up and her hands moved to his shoulders, driving him down.

“Viola,” he moaned as he sheathed himself fully inside her. “It’s so good.”

She crossed her ankles against his buttocks, pulling him tight against her, telling him she wanted him deeper.

They rocked together, back and forth, bodies slippery with sweat, his heart pounding a primal beat of possessiveness.

Mine. You’re mine. I’ll never let you go.

He lifted her up, still inside her, and carried her to the wall, holding her against it with his body.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck, their bodies lashed together, riding this storm of passion.

He wanted to lose himself inside her forever. Stay like this with her encompassing him, the warm, soft curves of her body, the sensual motion of her hips.

His hands squeezing her plump bottom. Groaning with every thrust. Wanting to last forever but knowing his orgasm would overtake him soon, flood his mind and body with a rush of pure pleasure.

Viola was his new addiction. In her he was made new.

For her he was a new man.

This would change him. He’d never had that thought during the act of sex before.

Sex wasn’t something that changed him, it was something that he mastered, that he performed, and performed well. It had never been transformative. Never gripped both his body and his heart with equal urgency.

This was wholly new. And he wanted it to last.

He gripped her hips, stilling her movements, and carried her back to the bed, lowered her down, and reseated himself. He moved slower this time, with measured, silken strokes. He reached between them and brushed his thumb over just the right place.

“Oh . . . ohhhh,” she sang, her head falling back and eyes closing.