He said it the way he said things.
Flat. True. Without preparation.
Her eyes went wide.
'Again.' 'What does—'
The word landed in a place that had no immediate explanation and too many implications.
"No—wait—"
Her hands flew to his chest.
"That doesn't make—I'm not—"
He pressed forward.
Four inches.
The sound that came out of her was not a moan.
Not a cry.
Something past both of those — the raw, high, specific sound of a body registering something it had no preparation for, of a wall that had been present giving way all at once.
"AAAAAHHH~!! 'WAIT'~!! AAANHGH~!! HIIEEK~!!"
The blood came.
A thin red line around the base of his cock where it met her entrance, spreading into the fabric pulled aside at her hip, evidence of something that this body had been carrying into this life intact without knowing it.
He stayed still.
Fully buried to the four inches.
His mouth back at her breast.
