Vicky’s POV
His eyes locked on mine, dark, hungry, certain, before he gently eased my legs apart. The anticipation alone stole the air from my lungs. And then...
Godsss.
The mont his mouth settled between my thighs, a sharp cry escaped . His tongue found my swollen center with devastating precision, and my hands flew to the sheets, twisting them as my back arched off the bed.
My mouth fell open, a trembling moan spilling out before I bit down on my lip, eyes fluttering shut.
"O–Ollie..."
His na dissolved on my tongue as he quickened his pace, every flick and circle sending sparks through like live electricity.
It had been so long—
Too long—
And every touch from him awakened sothing deep, sothing starved, sothing that had waited for him alone.
He alternated between slow, teasing strokes and fast, urgent ones that sent my mind spiraling into pure white static. Each change in rhythm made whimper, hips lifting shalessly toward his mouth. I couldn’t control it, couldn’t even pretend to.
He devoured like he’d been craving this for years... Because he had for sure.
Every lap of his tongue dragged louder, rawer sounds from —moans I didn’t recognize as my own, breathless curses I couldn’t stop.
Then—
He slid a finger inside .
My breath shattered.
"Oh—Oliver—ahh—!"
I pushed my head back into the pillow, thighs trembling around him. And before I could even settle into the sensation, he added another finger, stretching slowly, deeply, perfectly.
A choked moan tore from .
He didn’t pause.
Didn’t hesitate.
His tongue kept working my clit with relentless, sinful devotion while his fingers moved inside in a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove absolutely wild. Pleasure tightened inside —sharp, sweet, unbearable.
I felt swollen, achingly sensitive, every nerve ending reaching for him, begging for more without needing to say a word.
And he gave it—
All of it—
Like he had every intention of ruining for anyone but him.
I don’t know how long he kept trembling under his mouth. Ti blurred into nothing but pleasure, but suddenly his lips were climbing back up my body, warm and hungry, and his fingers slipped away, leaving aching for more.
When his mouth crashed into mine again, he didn’t hold back. He kissed like a man starving, like he was pouring years of longing straight into , and I lted beneath him completely.
Then I felt it, his hardness nudging between my legs, thick and insistent, sliding against the slick heat he had created. I don’t even know how he managed to undress his lower half that fast.
My breath hitched.
My body responded instantly.
He broke away from the kiss, just enough to look at as he slowly pressed forward, nudging himself inside , inch by devastating inch.
My lips parted in silent shock, a soundless gasp caught in my throat until it finally spilled out in a trembling moan. "Ahh..."
The stretch was deep, slow, and excruciatingly delicious. I felt every inch of him as he filled , my body clenching instinctively around him, adjusting to his size. He was pushing it in ever so slowly that I closed my eyes to feel him completely.
"Open your eyes," he murmured, voice low and rough with desire. "Look at . I want to see you as I go inside you... as we beco one."
I tried. God, I tried. But my eyes kept fluttering shut on their own, rolling back with every slow thrust forward.
"O-Oliver... f-fuck... ahh—"
My voice broke as he pushed deeper, still agonizingly slow, filling entirely.
He felt bigger—
Harder—
Thicker than I rembered.
The pressure, the stretch, the way my body struggled to take him all in made feel like a virgin again, like this was the first ti all over, like he was claiming a part of that had been untouched since the last ti we were together.
My fingers clawed at his back, my legs tightening around him instinctively as pleasure pulsed through in waves.
I wasn’t just taking him in.
I was surrendering, completely, helplessly, willingly, to the man I had loved for years.
His breath trembled against my cheek as he finally sank fully into , his forehead resting gently against mine. For a mont, neither of us moved; we just stayed there, pressed together, bodies locked, hearts racing in perfect sync.
It felt like everything in the world had gone quiet.
Just him.
Just .
Just this mont we had waited far too long for.
When he finally drew back a little, it was achingly slow, so slow I could feel my body trying to hold him exactly where he was. Then he pushed forward again, deeper this ti, and my breath broke into a soft, helpless moan.
"Vicky..." he whispered, as if saying my na itself was pleasure. "God, you feel... you feel like ho, so perfect, so good."
My hands slipped up his back, pulling him closer as my legs tightened around him, urging him to stay close, to stay with , to never let go again.
His hips moved with deliberate care, each slow thrust sending warmth spreading through my body, the kind that didn’t just curl in my stomach but reached all the way into sothing deeper—sothing emotional, sothing I had tried to bury for years.
He kissed my jaw, then my cheek, then the corner of my lips, each kiss slow and tender, as if he wanted to savor every inch of .
"I missed this," he murmured, his voice strained, full of emotion he couldn’t hide. "Missed you. Missed us. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to hold you like this again."
My chest tightened at his words. I cupped his face, guiding him to look at . "I’m here," I whispered, breathless. "I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere."
He kissed again, slow at first, then deeper, fuller, matching the rhythm of his body as he moved inside . Sothing in him softened—then lted entirely.
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