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Emma Frost knew he didn’t speak, but when she looked into his mind, what she found was raw, primal, and impossibly tempting. She hadn’t expected to crave it, to be seduced by the silent confidence and that undeniable presence, but here she was, lying on her side with her legs parted and toes curling. The stretch was slow at first, her breath catching as he filled her, every inch pushing her further into bliss she didn’t realize she needed. Her silken voice breaks into needy moans as his thrusts deepen, her polished exterior slipping with each delicious movement. Fingertips dig into the sheets, her body arching to meet him, hips rocking in sync with the rhythm only their bodies understood. He’s thick, unrelenting, and the pressure blooming deep inside her draws gasps from her lips she never intended to let slip. She was the one who usually stayed composed, always in control, but now her eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing flushed cheeks, surrendering completely to the intensity of being taken so thoroughly. And when her feet slide up higher, flexing with each drive into her, it isn’t just for show, it’s instinct, desperate need, a wordless cry for more. Maybe she had teased herself when she thought a little splinter couldn’t hurt, but now, with every roll of his hips and every greedy moan that escapes her, Emma realizes she was wrong in the best possible way.
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