When she involuntarily clenched around him, he gasped and clamped his hands on her waist, pressing down and grinding her against him.
With the added pressure, he sank even deeper inside her, and she moaned loudly.
His voice was shredded when he spoke again. “Can I fuck you from below?”
She wasn’t a small woman, so that seemed optimistic. It also seemed like something she desperately wanted to try.
Bending low, she took his nipple in her mouth and closed her teeth around it with the careful pressure he preferred, and a raw sound wrenched from his throat and vibrated through his chest. Then she lifted her head and smiled down at him. He was flushed and sweaty now too, his pupils blown, his eyes only for her and on her.
“Please,” she said, knowing how much he loved that, and how much he was going to love what she’d say next. “Please fuck me.”
He exploded into movement beneath her, big hands gripping her hips with bruising force, feet braced on the mattress as he bucked into her. Even with all his strength, he couldn’t move her much, but it was … astounding.
So much friction. So much pleasure.
She moaned again, long and low, unable to look away from his commanding stare.
“Bouncing you … on my … dick, Wren.” He was grinning, his chest a bellows as he gasped for air and fucked her. “Want to … bet whether—”
When she tweaked his nipples, his mouth dropped open, and he licked his lips.
She could barely form words, but she managed to come up with two. “Go on.”
His hips stilled beneath her, and she cried out an incoherent protest.
“Want—” He licked his lips again, trying to catch his breath. “Want to bet whether I can make you come this way sometime? Hands-free?”
That was a sucker bet. She’d been grinding her clit against him with every rock of her hips, and she was already on the verge again. Hands-free.
Which he evidently knew, because he looked smug once more, and screw that.
She deliberately squeezed his dick inside her, as hard as she could, and he made that deep, raw sound again and held her down as he shoved his hips upward.
Her legs spread even wider, without her permission.
“Won’t be long, Wren.” His jaw worked, the veins in his neck bulging. “Need my fingers?”
That might mean him not—oh, why not say it?—bouncing her on his dick anymore, so no. She wanted to feel that power between her thighs, now and forever.
“Mine instead,” she breathed, and slid her hand between his sweaty body and hers.
When she accidentally brushed his pumping cock, he cried out and gritted his teeth. “Wren. I can’t—”
She rubbed hard, and he fucked her relentlessly, and then she was coming, clenching around him and ecstatic and crying out as he slammed her down on his dick one last time and went rigid. He shook beneath her, a roar ripped from his throat and echoing in the room.
Then they were both limp and panting, and she slid off to the side, gasping a little as he left her body. Once he’d taken care of the condom, his fingers laced through hers immediately. Other than that, though, neither of them moved for a long, long time.
Finally, he cleared his throat, and she turned her head in his direction.
“Let’s do that a million more times,” he told her. “Like, right now.”
Bracing herself on an elbow, she glanced down at his penis, softening against his thigh.
“Fair point.” He snickered. “The spirit is eager, but the flesh has a refractory period.”
“Mine doesn’t.” It had to be said.
“Show-off,” he complained, but he was grinning as he levered himself up enough to kiss her again, his extremely talented hand sliding slowly up her thigh. “Such a demanding harpy.”
