She quivers when I breathe against her, and I slide my hands to her hips, pinning her down gently, and listen for the adjustment in her breath, the way her chest rises and falls in anticipation.
“God, Raina,” I groan, unable to stop myself. I stroke her, slow, and her whole body trembles.
“Want your fingers,” she murmurs. “Want them inside me.”
It takes everything I have to oblige gently, to go slow even though my body is screaming for more. I slide two fingers into her, curling them until she gasps, and she grinds down, using my hand to get herself off. The pace is frantic, primal. I lose track of time, of space, of anything that isn’t her gasping “more, please, don’t stop,” her hips canting against my hand.
Moving up her body to kiss her, I add a third and then a fourth finger, wanting to get her to a place where she can take me. We’ve been working on stretching her for months.
When she comes, it’s volcanic. She rips her mouth from mine and bites my shoulder, moaning into my skin, and nearly collapses. I hold her, fingers buried deep inside, as she rides out every last ripple. She shivers against my chest, then lifts her head, hair wild, eyes glassy and bright.
“Wow,” I say, and she laughs, the sound pure and unguarded.
She kisses me, slow and soft, and for a while we lay there, catching our breath. But her hand is not idle. It wanders down my chest, toying with the waistband of my sweats, then dips inside.
She finds me hard, already leaking. “So big. So freaking perfect,” she says, and it’s not a joke. She wraps her hand around my length, and I buck into her grip, barely holding on. “Can I—“ She trails off, biting her lip.
“Yes,” I hiss, dizzy with need. “God, yes.”
She strokes me, her hold a little tight at first, but she quickly finds the right pressure. I’m close already, closer than I want to be, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stave off the inevitable.
But Raina is relentless. She twists her wrist at the end of every stroke, thumb teasing the tip, and I’m undone. “I want you inside me,” she says, blunt and raw and perfect.
I nearly come from that alone. “Raina, are you sure?”
She nods, fierce and unflinching. “Just the tip?” It’s a question, but also a dare. She works my sweatpants off, with me liftingmy hips to help her, watching her every move. She straddles my hips, her legs silky soft against my waist. My heart hammers so hard I can barely hear over the blood rushing in my ears.
The slick heat of her slit glides along my length as her hips rotate, and I can’t help but thrust along with her, my body taking over before I can think it through.
Every time my tip bumps against her clit, she lets out a whimper that makes me want to flip her over, but I know if I want to try letting her take me, she needs to be on top.
As we move, my tip gradually starts to catch on her opening, and when we’re lined up perfectly, she rotates her hips again, sliding the head inside her.
We both freeze.
She’s so tight, so warm, and I swear I see stars.
“Shit, you’re big,” she pants, breath shallow. She drops her head, hair curtaining her face, and I stroke her back, waiting, not wanting to rush her.
“It’s okay, we can stop,” I murmur.
“Big in the best of ways,” she amends. “You fill me up so good.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I stare into her eyes, wanting to make sure she’s okay.
“You won’t. I’m ready for you,” she soothes, brushing her lips against mine. My hands tighten on her hips. “Go slowly,” I remind her, not wanting her to drop down on my dick and hurt herself.
She does, rocking gently, working me deeper in fractions. I watch her take me, the impossible stretch of her body around the head of my cock. A dizzying rush passes through me… this is really happening—she’s letting me in, letting me fill her up, and it’s all for me.
The heat of her is so intense, but even more is the tight, desperate quiver of her walls as she lowers herself a little more.My stomach drops and the world shrinks to the sight of her, flushed and trembling, every inch of her body attuned to mine.
“Fuck, you look so good,” I gasp, voice raw and foreign to my own ears.
Raina halts with half of me in her, her nails digging into my chest—not in protest, but to anchor herself. Her teeth dig into her lip, and know the moment she decides to keep going.
I’m so thankful for the distraction of watching her, because she feels too fucking good. Her face twists into something between concentration and victory as she wriggles another inch onto my length.
My hands shake, and I bite my own lip so hard I taste blood. This is too much. My hands fly to her hips, steadying her, not daring to push down but needing to feel the hot flex of her skin under my palms.
