I reach between us, guiding myself to her entrance.
I push inside her slowly, watching her face as I fill her completely. She gasps, her good hand clutching my shoulder, nails digging into my skin. The sensation of being inside her is overwhelming—hot and tight and perfect—and for a moment I have to close my eyes to maintain control.
“You feel incredible,” I whisper, beginning to move in long, measured strokes.
She moans beneath me, her legs tightening around my waist to pull me deeper. “Harder,” she demands. “Give me more.”
I obey, driving into her faster, harder, being mindful of her injured shoulder but losing myself in the pace, in the rising rhythm between us. Her hips lift to meet each thrust, her breath hitching with each impact. Watching her like this—eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, pleasure raw and real on her face—has me teetering on the brink of losing control.
But then, I want more. I want to see her above me, taking what she wants. I want to watch her chase her own pleasure.
“I want you on top,” I growl, slowing my movements just enough to speak. “I want to watch you ride me.”
Her eyes flutter open, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “My shoulder?—”
“I’ve got you,” I promise, my voice low and steady. “I want to see you take control. Take what you need.”
A spark ignites in her eyes—desire mixed with determination. She nods, and I carefully withdraw, helping her shift positions. With one smooth motion, I roll onto my back and guide her on top of me, supporting her injured side as she straddles my hips.
“That’s it, baby,” I encourage, my hands gripping her thighs. “Show me how you like it.”
Her eyes lock with mine as she sinks down slowly, her body taking me in inch by inch. The sensation is almost too much—her warmth enveloping me completely as she settles fully onto my lap. I keep my hands steady at her waist, supporting her weight to protect her injured shoulder.
“You good?” I ask.
“Better than good,” she breathes, experimentally rolling her hips. The movement sends a jolt of pleasure through me that makes my fingers tighten around her waist.
Lila places her good hand flat against my chest for balance, and I cover it with mine, pressing her palm harder against my skin. She begins to move, finding a rhythm, and I let out a low groan that I don’t bother to swallow. “That’s it,” I say. “Just like that.”
Her wild curls fall forward as she rocks above me. I reach up and push them back so I can see her face. “Look at me,” I tell her. “I want to see you.”
Her eyes find mine. “Like what you see, Professor?”
“You have no idea.” My hands tighten at her hips. “Tell me what you want.”
“More,” she says. “Harder.”
I oblige, driving up to meet her, and she gasps. I reach between us, my thumb finding her center, and her rhythm stutters. “Oh, fuck—” Her head drops back. “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, watching her face. “Come on. Let me feel you.”
“Jonah—”
“I know.” I press harder. “Give it to me.”
Her eyes flutter open, locking onto mine, and it’s like a lightning strike—raw, electric, and completely exposed. There’s a hunger in her gaze, a need that mirrors my own, that has nothing to do with the friction of our bodies and everything to do with the desperate connection that’s grown between us, wild and uncontrollable as a storm.
“Jonah,” she gasps, my name on her lips like a secret, a plea. “I’m so close?—”
I can feel her tightening around me, her hips jerking erratically, her breath coming in ragged gasps. My own release is a molten pool at the base of my spine, threatening to spill over, but I grit my teeth, holding it back. I need to see her shatter first. Need to watch her face as she comes undone.
“Don’t hold back, baby,” I growl, circling my thumb faster, pressing harder. “Let me see you come. Let me hear you scream my name.” Her nails dig into my chest, her eyes wide and dark. “That’s it,” I coax, my voice rough. “Give it to me, Lila. Let go.”
She does. With a cry that she muffles against her own arm, she comes undone above me, her body shuddering as waves of pleasure wash over her. The sight of her completely abandoned to ecstasy, combined with the exquisite sensation of her tightening around me is too much to resist. My control snaps, and I thrust upward, holding her steady as I follow her over the edge, my release hitting me with an intensity that makes me cry out her name.
For several moments, we stay frozen like this—her above me, both of us breathing hard, connected in the most intimate way possible. Then, carefully, I help ease her down beside me, mindful of her injured shoulder. She winces as she settles against the pillows, but the satisfied smile on her face tells me she has no regrets.
I pull the covers over us both, and she immediately curls against my side, her head finding that perfect spot on my chest as if it was designed specifically for her. Max, who had discreetly relocated to the floor during our activities, hops back onto the foot of the bed with a soft huff.
