Phei settled between her thighs with deliberate care, the weight of his body held on his forearms so he could keep his eyes on hers—never breaking that fragile, electric connection.

The broad, slick head of his cock rested against her entrance, hot and pulsing, but he didn't push forward yet.

Instead, he lowered his forehead to hers, breathing her in—the faint jasmine of her skin, the warmer note of her arousal, the subtle salt of nervous tears she hadn't let fall.

His heart thundered against his ribs, not just from desire but from the overwhelming weight of what this meant: he was the first, the only one who would ever know her like this, and the responsibility of that trust humbled him to his soul.

"Sierra," he whispered, voice rough with something deeper than lust—raw, aching devotion. "Look at me, honey."

Her eyes—storm-gray, luminous, stripped of every defense—met his without flinching.

In them he saw trust so complete it stole his breath, and a flicker of fear she was offering anyway.

He drowned in that gaze, seeing his own fierce love reflected back, the quiet terror that he might hurt her warring with the primal need to claim her completely.

"I've got you," he said again, softer this time, like a vow carved into eternity. "Every second. You're not alone in this. I'll cherish every piece of you, always."

She nodded, the smallest movement, and her hands slid from his shoulders to frame his face—thumbs brushing his cheekbones with trembling tenderness, as if memorizing him the same way he'd memorized her.

His skin shivered!

Her touch grounded him, a silent promise that she wanted this—wanted him—despite the unknown ahead.

He kissed her then—slow, deep, pouring everything he couldn't say into the slide of his tongue against hers.

A kiss that promised safety, reverence, possession, and something far more dangerous: care. Love. The kind that would ruin him for anyone else. She melted beneath it, lips parting on a soft sigh that tasted like surrender and homecoming at once.

Only when her hips lifted instinctively toward him did he begin.

The first press was barely movement—just the blunt crown nudging inside, stretching her gently, letting her feel the impossible heat of him claiming her inch by careful inch. Her breath caught; her fingers tightened on his face.

Her virgin entrance fluttered uncertainly around the thick head, soft petals parting with shy resistance, as if her body itself was whispering, Isn't this cock too much? Can I truly take him?

"Breathe with me," he murmured against her lips.

He inhaled slow; she followed. Exhaled; she matched him. And on her exhale he slid forward—one tender, steady push that breached her fully, the broad head popping past her tight ring with a slick, intimate sound that made them both shudder.

Her walls clamped down in startled pulses, opening and closing around the invading gaint girth like delicate silk trying to accommodate steel—clenching hard in instinctive protest, then blooming open again in trembling welcome, slick heat coating him as her body fought and surrendered in the same breath.

Sierra's back arched; a soft, broken cry spilled into his mouth. He stilled instantly, buried only a few inches inside her, feeling the flutter of her virgin walls adjusting, clenching in tiny, helpless pulses around him.

The sensation was exquisite agony for him—her untouched channel so impossibly tight, gripping him like a fist of molten velvet, every spasm milking him with innocent desperation.

"I know," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth, her damp cheek, the faint tear that had escaped. "I know, princess. You're doing so beautifully. You're giving me everything, and it's the most precious gift I've ever been given by a girl."

He stayed motionless, letting her body open to him naturally—kissing her eyelids, her temple, murmuring soft praises against her skin: "You feel perfect around me."

"So warm, so tight… made for me."

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

His voice cracked on the words, emotion thick in his throat as he felt her gradually soften, her inner muscles relaxing in slow, trusting waves.

Her hands moved to his back, nails grazing lightly, then clutching as another slow inch eased inside.

She was impossibly wet, her arousal coating him, easing the way, but the stretch was still profound—her body yielding to his with trembling acceptance.

Each new inch forced her slick walls to spread wider, the delicate tissues parting with wet, reluctant kisses around his shaft, fluttering open and closed in rapid, uncertain spasms—as if her pussy was tasting him for the first time, unsure whether to pull him deeper or push him out.

When he felt the faint resistance deeper—the thin, fragile barrier of her innocence (her hymen, her virginity)—he paused again—forehead pressed to hers, breathing ragged.

His entire body shook with the effort of holding back, cock throbbing fiercely inside her partial embrace, veins pulsing against her clutching walls.

"This part might hurt a little," he warned gently, voice laced with apology and reverence. "But only for a moment. Hold on to me. Tell me you're ready, love. I need to hear it only when you're ready."

She nodded, eyes locked on his, tears glistening but fierce with determination, and wrapped her arms fully around his shoulders—pulling him closer, not away. "Yes," she breathed, the single word a gift of permission that shattered the last of his restraint.

"I want you, Phei, as my man, my first. All of you."

He kissed her deeply, swallowing her gasp as he pressed forward—one smooth, careful thrust that seated him fully inside her, breaking through the last barrier with a sharp, fleeting sting.

The thin membrane gave way with a subtle tear, her body yielding completely as his thick length surged forward, burying itself to the root in one claiming stroke.

Her virgin walls stretched impossibly around him, clamping down in a fierce, shocked spasm—opening wide to accept his invasion, then snapping closed in frantic ripples, milking him with desperate, involuntary contractions as pain and pleasure collided.

She tensed, a soft cry muffled against his lips—half pain, half wonder—but he held still, buried to the hilt in searing, impossible heat, feeling her pulse around him in frantic flutters.

Warmth bloomed between them—not just her slick arousal, but the faint, coppery trace of blood, a few crimson droplets streaking his shaft and mingling with her creamy wetness as he remained locked inside her. Proof. Ritual.

Her Virgin Blood!

The sacred mark that she had become a woman here, in his arms, with him as witness and guardian.

Tears slipped down her temples; he kissed them away, tasting salt and trust, his own eyes stinging with emotion he didn't bother to hide.

"It's done," he whispered, voice shaking with restraint and awe—and something deeper, a fierce, protective love that consumed him.

"You took all of me. You're mine now… and I'm yours."

He pressed tender kisses to her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips, rocking ever so gently—not thrusting, just cradling himself inside her, letting her feel how perfectly they fit, how her body now cradled his like it had always been waiting.

"My brave, beautiful Sierra. I promise, I will love you, Sierra. I will, My Woman!"

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