But right now, with Cade looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters, his hands on my hips and his cock pressing against my soaked panties… Right now, none of those questions matter.
I push my panties to the side, my fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. I'm soaked, have been since the moment his lips touched mine in the kitchen. Eight years of celibacy for him, and I'm about to end that drought. The thought makes me feel powerful and tender at the same time.
I run my fingers down his abs, feeling them contract under my touch. He's sweaty already, his skin hot and slick, and God, he's beautiful. All hard muscle and masculine perfection, the body of a man who carries people out of burning buildings for a living.
My hand wraps around his cock, and he groans, his hips jerking up into my grip. He's thick and hard and perfect, just like I remember. I guide him to my entrance, positioning the head of his cock right where I need him.
"Sierra," he breathes, his fingers digging into my hips. "Are you sure?"
"So sure." I sink down slowly, feeling him stretch me open, fill me inch by incredible inch. "Oh God, Cade. You’re so big."
"You feel perfect," he groans, his eyes locked on where we're joined. "Like you were made for me."
I am made for him. That's what it feels like as I take him deeper, as my body adjusts to the delicious fullness of having him inside me again. We were always the perfect puzzle, his cock fitting inside me like it was designed specifically for this purpose, my body welcoming him home.
When I'm fully seated on him, both of us are breathing hard. I give myself a moment to adjust, to savor the feeling of being complete after eight years of emptiness. His hands move from my hips to my waist, his thumbs tracing circles on my skin.
"Move," he says roughly. "Please, baby, I need you to move."
I lift up slowly, feeling every inch of him drag against my inner walls, then sink back down. The friction is perfect, the angle hitting spots inside me that make my toes curl and my breath hitch.
"Like that?" I ask, even though his expression tells me everything I need to know.
"Exactly like that." His hands tighten on my hips, helping guide my movements. "Fuck, Sierra. You're so wet, so tight. I can feel you squeezing me."
I establish a rhythm, rising and falling on his cock, taking him deep with every downward stroke. My hands brace on his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath my palms. His eyes are locked on mine, and I feel exposed in the best way.
I pick up the pace, bouncing faster now, chasing the pleasure building in my core. My breasts bounce with the movement, and Cade's eyes drop to watch them, mesmerized. One of his hands leaves my hip to cup one of them, his thumb brushing over my nipple.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he says. "I could watch you ride me forever."
The praise sends heat flooding through me, makes me ride him harder. His hand moves back to grip my ass, squeezing the flesh there, helping lift and lower me on his cock. The new angle has him hitting deeper, and I cry out, my nails digging into his chest.
"That's it," he encourages. "Take what you need. Use me. I'm yours, Sierra. Always been yours."
I'm lost in it now, in the slide of his cock inside me, in the way his hands feel on my body, in the look of pure worship on his face. My thighs are burning from the exertion, but I don't care. I could do this for hours, could ride him until neither of us could move.
But then Cade's hand is on my back, pulling me down until I'm lying fully on top of him, my breasts pressed against his chest, our faces inches apart.
"My turn," he murmurs against my mouth, and then his hips are arching, thrusting up into me.
"Oh fuck," I gasp, my hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders. "Cade—"
"I've got you." His arms wrap around my back, pinning my arms between our bodies, holding me in place. "Just let me… Let me take care of you."
He thrusts into me mercilessly, his thighs flexing with each powerful flex. I can't move, can barely breathe, completely at his mercy as he pounds into me. And I love it. Love being helpless beneath his strength, love knowing that he'd never hurt me, that he's only doing this to give me pleasure.
I turn my head to look at him, at his half-lidded eyes dark with lust, his mouth open as he pants, sweat trickling down his forehead and making his dark hair stick to his skin. He's never looked more handsome, more powerful, more mine.
"You feel incredible," he grunts, never slowing his relentless pace. "So perfect wrapped around my cock. Like coming home."
"Don't stop," I beg, feeling my orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly. "Please, Cade, don't stop."
"Never." His grip tightens on me, his cock driving deeper with each thrust. "I'll never stop. Could fuck you all day, all night. Make up for eight years of missing you."
He doesn't slow down, doesn't falter, doesn't show any sign of tiring. Of course he doesn't. He's a goddamn firefighter. All muscle and stamina and strength built from years of carrying equipment, climbing ladders, hauling victims to safety. This man runs into burning buildings for a living. His body is a machine designed for endurance, and right now, all that power is focused on fucking me senseless.
The thought makes me clench around him, and he groans, his hips driving even harder.
