“Knew I’d make you feel good,” he says, watching his finger slide in and out of me.
Part of me thinks I should be embarrassed, letting him see me like this, everything on display for him. That I should tell him not to look. But all I can do is arch into it, helpless and wanting, craving more of him.
All of him.
It definitely didn’t feel like this when I did it.
His fingers move in a slow rhythm, a second finger joining the first. The initial stretch makes me gasp, my thighs tightening around his hand, overwhelming in a way that makes me arch off the bed. “Just relax, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
He works me open with slow, deep strokes that turn faster and more confident the longer we go. A third finger follows before I even realize it’s happening, as it all starts to blur together. The pressure, the heat, the way he somehowknowsexactly what I need.
My body clenches around his fingers, every nerve inside of me lighting up. My hips roll into his hand, shameless and desperate, chasing the friction. “That’s it,” he says, curling his fingers. “That’s my girl. Taking it so good for me.”
When the pressure in my groin gets to be too much, my hand moves on its own, reaching down between us. My shaking fingers squeeze around myself, attempting to find relief even though I’m still mostly soft.
I’m almost there when Nate stops.
The sharp pleasure fades away as he pulls his fingers out of me, leaving my entrance to clench around nothing. Astrangled whine falls from my lips, and my hips twitch, seeking more. I look up, pleading for him to put them back.
And he just…laughs! Full-on laughs! “Sorry, Darlin’, I wanted to make sure you didn’t come yet.”
“Why not?” I snap, genuinely angry because I wasso closeand it’s beenso long,and my body has decided that enough is enough and I need to comenow.
He grins down at me, and somehow, in the middle of all of this intensity, my own lips tug into a matching smile because I love him so much.
And I’m angry that he stopped fingering me.
How is this my life?
Nate shifts back, his hands going to the waistband of his pants and shoving them down without ceremony.
There’s no need.
My thighs press together. “Maybe we should stick to the fingers.”
He adds more lube to his hand and wraps it around himself. “It’s not that big,” he drawls, thumb brushing over the tip, catching a bead of precum. “You’ll be alright, promise.”
I’m barely even listening because the sight of him stroking himself is mesmerizing. The pink wet head, the way his hand grips his thick shaft, I let my legs relax back open without even realizing.
“It’s pretty,” I tell him, because it is.
He scoffs, his hand faltering. “My dick ain’t pretty, Iris. I’m a dude.” The tone of his voice doesn’t match the blush creeping onto his cheeks.
He climbs back onto the bed, shifting forward until I can feel his hard cock press against my entrance. His hand trails up my thigh, slow and warm until he reaches my hip. “Deepbreath for me, Darlin’.”
His thumb strokes circles against my skin, waiting for me to inhale like he said, before he starts to push in.
The blunt pressure makes my body tense, my nails digging into the sheets. It’s a lot more than his fingers. It’s so much.
He’s inside of me.
But he knows this is my first time, and he doesn’ttake.
I drag in a shaky breath, my hips twitching at the growing pressure as he eases in impossibly deeper.
His forehead drops to mine, our lips brushing, but neither of us can kiss right now.
“Fuck,” he whispers, rough and reverent all at once. “So fucking tight, Iris.” His body is trembling over me. His muscles are strained, and his fingers dig into my thigh like it’s the only thing keeping him in control.
