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But not an orgasm.
Because he wasn't going to allow me to have one.
Yet.
His tongue left me as he kissed up the triangle above my sex, my belly, between my breasts. His lips sucked one of my hardened peaks into its warm depths as his fingers picked up the pace of their thrusting, as he hinted at something I just knew he wasn't going to give to me until he was buried deep.
He moved across my chest, torturing my other nipple for a long moment before he was running kisses up the side of my neck then tracing the edge of my earlobe with his tongue before sealing his lips over mine- taking it hard and deep and full of promise until every inch of me felt alive from it.
Then his fingers slowly slid out of me, the absence making me feel illogically incomplete as he pressed up and back, knees against the edge of the bed as he reached behind himself and dragged his shirt forward and off.
I was sure I would never get used to seeing him like that- bare, beautiful and flawed. He was muscular, sure. But unlike the countless pictures of shirtless men in fitness magazines and the bodies at the gym or beaches- all interchangeable, lovely but generic, he held his uniqueness on his skin, in his scars, in the flawless imperfections that made him who he was.
His hand slid behind his back, pulling out a worn brown leather wallet, all creased and supple-looking, pulling out a condom and placing it at the edge of the bed before tossing the wallet and reaching for his button and zip.
His hands paused though before the zip was even halfway down.
"Touch your pussy for me." His voice was a low, deep, rough rumble that moved through my insides, turning my stomach liquid.
I would never call myself a prude, but masturbating had always, in the past, been a private thing, something I found embarrassing to do with a partner around, let alone intimately watching.
But it was Lazarus.
And he was asking in that voice with that look in his eye after being just so... him- so good, so understanding, so perfect.
My hand didn't even hesitate in sliding down my belly and between my legs, pressing into my clit and the contact on the overly sensitive point made my entire body do a jolt.
"Fuck, that's sexy," he growled, finally undoing his pants and pulling them and his boxer briefs down in one swift motion.
My sex did a clench that was so strong it was practically an orgasm as he reached down and took his thick cock in his hand and started stroking it while he watched me.
Emboldened, my fingers slid from my clit and pressed inside me.
And Lazarus, well, he freaking growled.
He released his cock, grabbed the condom and made short work of protecting us.
His body curled over mine, one hand reaching down to pull my hand away from my sex and pinning it above my head as he surged inside me.
And before my mind could even process the overwhelming pleasure of that, all I could feel and think was: right. It felt so, so right to have him inside me.
He withdrew slightly and pressed back in and there was no more thinking- just the feel of his body moving inside mine, his hand squeezing mine, his lips pressing sweet kisses over my lips, my jaw, my one good eyelid.
"Faster," I demanded, my hands digging into his back as my legs folded across his hips, my pelvis grinding up into his- demanding harder, faster, needing release like I needed my next breath.
"No," his voice whispered in my ear, sending a shiver through my body. "Slow and sweet," he insisted, pressing inside me again- deeper, our bodies as close as was possible.
And I broke apart.
The orgasm was the likes of which I had never felt before- one deep, powerful pulsation that seemed to overtake my entire body, making my vision black out for a second, my ears to go deaf, my air to get compressed in my chest.
But then the smaller pulsations started, my breath returned to me, and I cried out his name, burying my face in his neck because tears not only threatened but absolutely did spill over.
Lazarus planted deep and came with my name on his lips, his body jerking hard once then going slack above me as he rested his forehead on the mattress and tried to get control of his breathing as my overwrought body started trembling uncontrollably with aftershocks.
I tried to hold on tight to prevent it, but Lazarus pulled against my hold and pressed up to look down at me, a small smile at his lips until he saw the tears, making his eyes go soft and melty again.
"Sweetheart." His voice was quiet as he leaned down and kissed one of the stream of tears then shifted to claim my lips until the aftershocks subsided and the tears stopped streaming. "Told you," he said oddly and I felt my brows drawing together slightly.
