I pushed. Two inches. Three. The hymen was there — I could feel it, the thin barrier of tissue, the last defense. I pressed against it. She whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut, her hands tightening on my shoulders.
"Look at me," I said.
She opened her eyes. Brown. Wet. The eyes of a woman who was about to lose something and did not know if she wanted to lose it.
I kissed her. The Tongue Mastery activated — my tongue finding hers, the contact warm, the rhythm slow, the kind of kiss that said 'I am here' and 'you are safe' and 'I will not let you fall'. The kiss swallowed her gasp as I pushed through.
The hymen tore. The blood came — thin, bright, the warmth of it spreading around my cock, the fluid running down her thighs and onto the sheets. She screamed into my mouth — a muffled, sharp sound, the sound of a woman whose body had just been breached.
I held. Did not move. Let the pain crest and break. Her internal voice was a white-out:
