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I close my eyes and just enjoy the feeling.
After a little bit, he removes his hand. He ignores my protest and grabs more lube, and then he’s prodding my entrance again, with a slick finger this time. I clutch the headboard and rock against him, rubbing my dick against his until his eyes roll back and his fingers grow clumsy against my ass.
“Fuuuuck,” he breathes out. “More of that,” he demands.
I laugh. “At your service.” And I keep going.
I spread my legs wider. Settle more firmly on top of him. Make myself comfortable.
I nip at his lower lip and search his gaze for any signs of hesitation. There’s only want and heat.
“Push your finger deeper,” I say.
He licks his lips and complies. A thick, slippery finger sinks farther inside me. My heart is doing a wild gallop in my chest, and his eyes stay trained on mine, gauging my reactions for each individual push, pull, and stroke inside me.
The muscles in my thighs quiver from trying to hold still and let him explore. I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected from him, but he seems fascinated.
His finger sinks even deeper, and a breath whooshes out of me.
“Good?” he asks hoarsely.
I nod, one hand still gripping the headboard while I angle the other behind me and start working my own finger inside myself until it’s covering his. I angle it so it’s just right, then I push down on the digit until he crooks it and grazes my prostate.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Right there,” I gasp.
There’s a moment when everything seems to stand still before he copies the movement on his own.
I moan out loud. He blinks and does it again. And again. He looks so adorably pleased with himself at every hitch of my breath, every gasp and moan and every other kind of desperate, out of control sound that falls from my lips.
“You look so good like this,” he says, his tone both feverish and reverent. “You have no idea.”
I clutch the headboard with both hands now, sort of slumped on him to keep myself upright while he gets to know my ass. His mouth is pressed against my shoulder. He casts his gaze downward to where his finger is moving in and out of me.
I pry one of my hands free and push it between the two of us, taking hold of his cock and giving it a stroke. He’s wide, and long, and thick, and I want him so fucking much.
“Condoms?” I ask.
He blinks at me for a moment as if he doesn’t quite understand what I’m asking before he dives over the edge of the bed once more. He tears the packet open and rolls the condom on. I push up on my knees and take the lube, applying liberally because—again—big and wide and thick.
I lower myself onto him slowly. The back of his head smacks against the headboard. The cords of his neck strain. He lets out a litany of curses while I push down on him, inch by slow inch.
By the time his balls touch my ass, he’s breathing harshly, clutching at the sheets to hold still.
I feel almost dizzy with all the endorphins my brain is sending out in crashing waves. Ryk’s hands move to my hips, fingers digging into the skin. His lips trail down my throat to my chest, kisses mingling with whispers of “Fuck” and “Dying” and “Jesus, you’re tight.”
“Okay?” he asks in a strained voice. I can only manage a nod because his thick cock is pushing against just the spot that sends shockwaves of bliss through my insides.
It’s like a culmination of something. There’s a rush of emotions wreaking havoc inside me, and it’s terrifying, but I want to stay like this. Just like this. Forever. And the scale and magnitude of the risk we’re taking doesn’t even matter.
Because maybe it’s worth it?
To try.
I move my hips experimentally. Ryker groans. He slides his hands up my back until he’s clutching my hair between his fingers and drags my mouth down to his. The kiss is uninhibited and wild and uncontrollable, and I start to ride him, lifting up, sliding down, clenching around him.
It’s all a mess. A mess of openmouthed kisses, my fingers clutching the headboard, and his threaded in my hair. His cock moving in and out of me, sweat-slick skin, and his hot and heavy breaths in my mouth.
