“You okay?” His voice was guttural.

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

And that much was true. The pain had faded. The burn was still there. It didn’t really feel bad. It just was kind of there.

“Well, I’m about to turn it from something okay to something great,” he said against my lips, and I wasn’t so sure about that.

But as he kissed me again, he started moving, slowly pulling out until he was halfway in and then pushing back in. The fullness of him stretching me was an odd feeling. Again, not painful, but something else, something that every time he pulled out and rocked in, I felt in my entire body.

Jax kept it slow and steady until the burning pressure really wasn’t something at all painful, something else entirely different. That burn turned into a low simmer of pleasure that ratcheted up with every pull and push.

Feeling more comfortable with this, I slid my hands down his sides to rest on his hips as I moved my hips with his next thrust.

“Damn,” he groaned, and I found out pretty quickly that moving in tandem with him was a good thing, a really, really good thing, so I did again and then again, and his next word exhale was harsh against my mouth. “Fuck.”

I moved my hips, rolling them at the pace he let me set and that ball of sensation was back, building and building. I moved my legs, wrapping them around his hips, and somehow he got deeper. His kisses turned wild, his tongue thrusting in tune with his hips, and my nails scoured the flesh along his hips.

“More,” I heard myself whisper, having no idea where that word came from, but he answered.

He gave more.

Lots more.

His movement picked up and his head dipped into the space between my neck and shoulder. The pressure in my core became everything. Any remnants of pain were long, long gone. Our movements became frantic and whatever rhythm was there was completely lost. He grunted into my ear as my back arched, my hands pulling him down.

“God, Calla, I love the way you feel,” he whispered into my ear. “I can feel you tightening. Fucking beautiful.”

My breath caught. I was on the edge of something bigger, something beautiful and powerful happening in my body, and he seemed to know because his thrusts turned to his hips grinding against mine. The friction was intense, consuming. I whispered his name as my grip on him tightened. Tension coiled tightly and then it exploded outward, the pleasure forceful and nothing like the times before. It was deeper, more concentrated.

His hips slammed into mine, all pretenses of control gone as he buried his head in my shoulder. He pushed, going deep, and then he stilled for a moment before his hips jerked. My name was a hoarse shot against my skin as he found his own release. I clung to him, moved more than I thought I’d ever be from sex, squeezing my eyes shut as he breathed deeply.