"Greedy girl." I brought my hand down again with a sharpthwackand she cried out, hips jerking back toward me. "Been taking everything I give you all night and you still can't get enough.”
“I want this so bad,” she gasped.
“I can see that.” Another hard slap, soothing her after, rubbing my hand over it. She was whimpering, soft little gasps and moans. “Your used pussy won't stop clenching, Haven. Begging for my cock like you didn't just come all over it an hour ago."
"Please," she breathed. "Please, I need you inside me, I need?—"
"Need what." Not a question. I wanted to hear her say it.
"You," she said. "Just you. Please, Wyatt?—"
I lined up and pushed inside her in one long stroke and we both went still.
She was soaked. Swollen and clenching tight around me after everything, and the sound when I pulled back and drove in again made her moan into the pillow, open-mouthed and shameless.
"Don't muffle it," I said. "Nobody can hear you out here."
She turned her cheek to the pillow and the next sound came out unguarded—high and desperate and exactly what I wanted. Her hands pulled at the belt and went nowhere and I felt her feel that, felt her clench harder around me when the leather held.
I set a pace and she took it, hips rolling back to meet me, greedy even now, even after hours of this.
"You're gonna be sore tomorrow," I said. “Walkin’ around, thinkin’ about me inside you. Ain’t that right?”
“I love it,” she choked out. “Please,pleasegive me more.”
I brought my hand down twice fast and she clenched so tight around me I had to stop and press my forehead to her shoulder and just breathe.
"Fuck," I gritted out. "You do that again and this is going to be over."
"Then make me come first."
I reached around and found her clit. She cried out as I worked her through it with my fingers, kept moving, felt her go apart in waves around me—clenching, shaking, rasping my name into the dark.
I followed her over with my hand pressed flat to her stomach, pulling her back against me, as deep as I could get.
Neither of us moved for a long moment.
Her breathing slowed. My heart was still going. I reached up and worked the belt loose and she made a soft sound when her hands came free.
I rubbed her wrists without thinking about it—checking, same as I'd checked before.
"Okay?" I said.
"Mm." She turned over, slow, and looked up at me. Hair everywhere, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy. "More than okay."
I looked down at her and felt it again—that thing I'd been trying not to name since she sat in my kitchen in my t-shirt asking about the za'atar.
I wasn't going to name it now either.
I lay down and she curled against my side like she'd been doing it for years, her head on my chest, and I put my arm around her and looked at the ceiling.
"Sleep," I said.
"I am sleeping."
"You're talking."
"I can do both." A pause. Her hand spread flat over my ribs. "Wyatt?"
