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The thought keeps screaming in my head.
That's Brendon.
He's in my hand.
He's lying next to me.
He's kissing me, claiming my mouth with his tongue.
He tastes like me.
Brendon tastes like me. It's wonderful and thrilling and absurd.
His hand stays on my wrist. He guides my movements as I stroke him.
Then he's groaning against my lips.
Tugging at my hair.
He tears the wrapper and rolls the condom over his cock.
He pushes my arms over my head and holds them against the bed.
His knees push my thighs apart.
Then he's lowering his body onto mine.
His eyes stay glued to mine as his cock nudges against my sex.
With one swift motion, he thrusts inside me.
Fuck. That's intense. It doesn't hurt, not exactly. It's more like a lot of pressure. Almost too much to take.
"Fuck." I need more. All of him. Even if it hurts.
He's slow about moving inside me. It's a tiny movement. But it still feels intense.
I hold his gaze as he moves faster. Harder. Until I'm getting the full force of him. Until it feels more good than uncomfortable.
Until pleasure is knotting in my core.
"Fuck, Kay." He leans down to press his lips to mine.
He claims my tongue as he claims my sex.
It screams through my head. That's Brendon inside you.
That's Brendon.
That's—
Fuck.
It hurts but it f
eels good too.
He feels good.
