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The tone of his voice, deep and commanding—almost angry—made me finally throw my head back and close my eyes in surrender. His questing fingers stretched me more aggressively, and his knee shoved one of my legs wider. “Fuck. More,” I moaned.
After working me over for what seemed like forever, he withdrew his fingers and slicked himself up before shoving me over onto my stomach. “Ass up. Like that. Knees apart. Good.”
Reagan manhandled me into position while I tried not to feel the vulnerability that came with the removal of his thick fingers. I felt strangely empty and unsatisfied while I waited to feel his cock inside me.
Instead of his cock, I felt the hard press of his hand between my shoulder blades. As soon as my forehead hit the soft sheet, I shuddered again. With anyone else, I would have told him to back off, but for some reason, with Reagan… it only made me hotter.
When his hands spread my ass apart and the blunt head of his cock slid against my hole, I reached back and grabbed his knee.
“Shh,” Reagan said. “Easy. Easy.” There was humor in his murmur. The repetition of my earlier words to him didn’t go unnoticed. I grinned stupidly against the sheet as I gripped his knee more tightly.
“Fucker,” I gritted out as my ass began to stretch impossibly wide around him.
The rumble of his laughter made my stomach flip over. “Mm-hm. I feel the anger coming off you in waves.”
Now it was my turn to laugh, only… the feel of him invading my body was too overwhelming, and my laughter ended in a groan. “Fuck,” I breathed.
He leaned over me, letting me feel the heat of him along my back. “You’re killing me.” Reagan’s voice carried the slightest hint of a tremble, enough to let me know I wasn’t the only one thrown incredibly off-kilter by this encounter.
As he grabbed my hand, tangled our fingers together, and pressed our entwined hands to the mattress above my head, his lips brushed my ear. “Breathe out. That’s it. You feel so fucking good, Thatcher. So fucking good.”
It felt like Reagan’s thick cock was deep enough inside of me to be up in my throat. I felt him everywhere until my skin prickled with it. How he was able to move this slowly was beyond me, but I was grateful for it. My body adjusted, but it was still a lot to take.
He continued checking in with me through murmured encouragement and gentle touches until I finally felt ready for him to speed up. Feeling Reagan on top of me, pressing me face-first into the bed while he shoved his fat cock into me, was not an experience I’d ever thought I’d want… and not one I could ever imagine sharing with another person. He held me down and fucked me with a unique combination of commanding determination and exquisite care, his words of praise washing over me while I struggled to take it all in. It was both too much and not enough.
Reagan’s thrusts sped up until he was pegging just the right spot to make me beg. I managed to free one hand from his hold and get it under me so I could jerk myself in desperation. His muttered curses joined the steamy heat in the space between us just as my orgasm reached the tipping point.
I screamed into the sheets, still clutching tightly to him with my other hand. The feel of his warm, jagged breath on my skin, of his sweat-damp chest hair against my back, and the heavy press of his hips against my ass joined the chaotic mess inside my head.
When Reagan pulled out, the empty, messy feeling left in his place echoed the chaos in my thoughts. Thinking about what awaited us in Honeybridge put a dark cloud over my plans to continue enjoying Reagan’s company.
“Turn over,” he said softly. “Let me clean you up.”
I managed to push myself onto my back with all the finesse of a turtle and blinked at him. He sat back on his heels, his sun-kissed hair sticking up at odd angles, forehead damp with sweat. Bright aquamarine eyes peered intensely at me, making me feel more exposed and defenseless than I had when he was fucking me.
Slowly, as though I might stop him, he climbed over me, hovering on his hands and knees. He bent to brush his lips to mine in a kiss that was achingly tender.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what, bottoming?” I gave him a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. “If it wasn’t obvious, I enjoyed the hell out of it.”
But Reagan didn’t take the bait.
“For that,” he agreed. “For trusting me. For knowing what I need and giving it to me. For not immediately regretting this.” His soft smile was a little bit wry. “Unlike our first time.”
I lifted a hand to his messy, damp hair. “I didn’t regret that night,” I found myself saying. “I regretted the circumstances around it. I regretted that I’m your boss, that I’m friends with your parents. I regretted that it was so good I wanted more… even though I shouldn’t have. And I worried you’d have regrets, too.”
Reagan shook his head but gave me a small smile. “That night, my only regret was that I hadn’t jumped you last summer. I mean, think of all the days we wasted cruising around on my father’s sailboat when we could have been doing this.”
“And now?” I prompted, trying to pretend that I wasn’t holding my breath, waiting for his answer.
“And now…” His smile brightened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think I’m going to make sure I don’t have any more regrets by enjoying you as much as possible before you—I mean, we—get back to the city.” Reagan winked, then pushed himself off the bed.
I watched as he moved through the motions, retrieving a wet cloth from the tiny bathroom and returning to attend to my body. I hissed as he gently moved one of my legs out of the way, and he pressed a reassuring kiss to my knee.
My breath stuttered in my chest.
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had taken care of me. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d let anyone. But like so many things, with Reagan, it simply felt… right. Necessary. Just as right and necessary as it felt for me to care for and protect him.
