The burn was beginning to build in my core, getting hotter each time Dominic rammed himself into me like he needed to fuck me to stay alive. No. Like he needed to love me to stay alive. This wasn’t fucking. This was loving. This was loving so purely and vulnerably, I was sure of it. I understood it now. Making love and fucking? There was an emphatic difference. Fucking was all lies, all selfish, and all shallow. This? This was not that.
