I repositioned myself on the bed, waiting with… not trepidation, but that minor hesitation I could never shake before bottoming. I liked this position in bed—I preferred it, really. But those nerves were always there, if even for a moment.
“Deep breath,” Calvin murmured. Then the head of his dick pushed in, forcing itself past the tight ring of muscle.
“Jesus Christ,” I swore.
Calvin held my hip with one hand and made a soothing motion up and down the links of my spine with the other. It’d never been like this with my previous partners. Calvin was so different from them. Even this—the smallest expression of care—left such an impression on my heart and memory. Each gentle stroke of his callused palm against my skin was a reminder that Calvin cared for my physical enjoyment.
That he respected me.
Cherished me.
“You okay?” he asked, and I could hear the stress in his tone from keeping still.
I nodded. “Move.”
Calvin tightened his hold a bit, thrust forward, pulled back, thrust in again, until his entire cock was buried in my ass. He moved his hands up to my shoulders, my body prone and ready for the taking. He pulled out slow, a delicious burning pleasure I could feel from ass to balls to toes, before shoving in roughly.
“Fuck!” Calvin shouted. “God—so good. Your ass was made for me.”
I gave up any semblance of a struggle for dominance, which was typical play to get Calvin all hot and bothered, and let him pound into me. His grip on my shoulders kept me from flying right off the bed on those thrusts that hitjust right, and his balls slapped my ass with every forward motion. The air around us was heavy with the heady scent of male, sweat, and sex, and the quiet was disrupted by gasps, pants, and incredible dirty talk coming from the handsome redhead taking me for one hell of a ride.
I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath until Calvin’s hand reached under and gave my overlooked cock a few quick strokes. I took in a shuddering lungful of air, balanced on one hand, and reached down to continue jerking myself.
“That’s it,” he said in a deep, gorgeous voice. “My cock makes you so hard.”
“C-Cal! I can’t—”
Finish the sentence. I don’t think my brain has gotten oxygen in at least five minutes.
Calvin put his arm across my chest and hoisted me up, back against his own chest. “Let me watch you come,” he whispered in my ear.
I stroked quickly, the tunnel of light growing brighter, blinding, and then it was like fireworks on New Year’s. Cum splattered my stomach and dribbled down my fist. I fought for air as I leaned my head to rest on Calvin’s shoulder. With my clean hand, I reached back, fumbled, and got ahold of his tie. I gave it a jerk over my shoulder, and he grunted.
Calvin kept fucking me, kept shoving into my tightened ass and shuddering muscles. He wrapped his hand around my wrist, raised it, and sucked on my sticky fingers.
Calvin’s rhythmic thrusts faltered as he licked my hand. His breathing turned jagged, intensified, and then I felt him spend inside me. I kept a grip on his tie, holding us flush against each other as he finished with the same tidal wave washing over him.
“HUH.”
“What?”
I tapped the StepTrack on my wrist, looked up, and watched as Calvin hastily redressed in front of the full-length mirror on the wall. “That burned ninety-six calories.”
He smiled into the reflection as he adjusted the knot of his tie.
I stood from the bed, finished tugging my trousers into place, and buttoned them. “I have a question. About the wedding.”
Calvin smoothed his shirt a few times. “You know, as long as you’re there and I’m there, details like flower vases and cake toppers don’t seem so important.” He turned and walked toward me. “Don’t you think?”
God, yes.
But I instead said, “You haven’t mentioned anything about inviting your family.”
Calvin didn’t respond, but his expression stumbled as if he had spoken.
“I killed the postsex mood, didn’t I?”
A brief,reluctantsmile crossed Calvin’s features. He looked down, took my hand, and ran the pad of his thumb over my ring. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said before meeting my gaze. “Getting married isn’t about them. It’s about you.”
