“Crawl to me.”
I do as I’m told, creeping toward her on my hands and knees.
“You know what this means to me. Giving you this power.” I pause, letting the weight of the moment settle between us. “I trust you with it completely.”
Her stiletto finds the top of my fencing mask, pressing down with a precise pressure that makes my breath catch in my throat. The gesture feels both tentative and bold, like she’s testing the boundaries of her own desires.
“Touché,” she purrs, and I’ve never been more turned on in my life.
My hands slide up her thighs, drawn to her heat like a moth to flame. As my fingers brush against her wetness, she snags my wrist in a vise grip.
“Did I say you could touch me there?”
“Please,” I groan, straining against her hold. “I need to feel you.”
“Beg harder.”
“Please, Reese, let me touch you.” I’m desperate. “I’ll do anything you want.”
She shifts her heel from my mask to my shoulder, her movements exact but tentative. There’s a tremor in her leg, uncertainty rippling through her controlled façade. My hands find her hips.
“Such a good boy,” she whispers, and through the mask I can see how affected she is. The pink lace of her underwear is damp beneath my fingers.
“You’re already so wet,” I admire, and she shudders. “This perfect cunt is missing me, isn’t it?”
“Touch me, right there,” she gasps as I push the lace aside. Her legs spread wider, hips canting forward with a desperation that makes my cock throb. “Yes.”
I circle her clit slowly, watching how she fights to maintain composure. Her hands grip my shoulders tighter, nails digging into skin.
I slip two fingers inside her. She’s so tight around my fingers that I have to resist standing up and fucking her just like this.
She needs this. I need it too. To let go.
To be free under her.
“Don’t stop,” she manages, her voice breaking on the word. “Please.”
“I won’t,” I promise and send my fingers deeper into her. Her thighs shake, and she throws her head back.
“I want—”
“Tell me.”
“I want you…” She pauses, struggling with vulnerability, with letting go of control. It’s endearing. “On the floor.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She glances toward my gym bag. “Do you have…?”
“Yes.” I nod, and she walks over to retrieve the condom.
When she returns, she kneels before me. I’m still wearing the fencing mask as she rolls the latex down my length. God, her hand on my cock is fucking gorgeous. Then she’s straddling me, sinking down until I’m fully inside her. She pushes her hands into my chest and slams my back on the floor.
I want to give her everything.
“Fuck,” I groan, overwhelmed by her wrapped around me.
What I would give to feel all of her without a fucking condom.
