The Push

The room was hushed, save for the faint creak of the bed and the rhythm of their breaths. His skin was warm against hers, the weight of his presence grounding, familiar, and electrifying all at once. As he entered her, slowly, deliberately, the world seemed to narrow to that single point of contact.

She moaned deeply—satisfaction at last—her fingers tightening on his back. Soft moans slip past her lips, not loud, but layered with pleasure and the ache of deep connection. The air held the scent of skin and warmth, and the sound that followed was part whisper, part surrender—intimate in a way words could never quite capture.