“Then fuck me, Dominik. No more teasing.”
His smile is quick and wicked.
He pushes back in, harder this time, no more slow rhythm, no more control. Just raw need and friction and the kind of thrusts that shake the bed against the wall. He fucks me like he’s trying to erase every year we spent apart, like he’s trying to put hisname in every nerve ending I’ve ever ignored. I take it, moaning louder now, biting his shoulder, clutching his ass as he slams into me again and again.
I’m close. So close. And he knows.
“You gonna come again for me?” he asks, voice wrecked. “One more time, Ana. Let me feel it.”
I do. I fall with his name on my lips, clenching around him, gasping as he fucks me through it. He groans ragged and loud—still holding back, still not done.
And I’m already aching for more.
I’m still trembling from the last orgasm, thighs slick and body heavy, but I want him again. My nerves feel flayed open and every part of me is raw, but I don’t want it to end. Not yet. Not with him still hard and staring at me like he’s not close to done either.
He brushes my hair back with one hand, then runs his palm down the length of my spine. His touch is slow and grounding, not gentle—just intentional. He grips my hips and pulls back, just enough to shift me where he wants me. His hands tilt me forward until my chest presses against the mattress and my ass is high, and I feel the stretch in my legs as he steadies me, his body looming close behind mine.
I don’t resist. I want this.
I glance back over my shoulder, hair falling into my face, and his eyes meet mine—dark, hungry, entirely focused. His fingers tighten slightly on my hips, then he nudges the head of his cock against my entrance and pushes back in, thick and slow, sinking into me inch by inch until he bottoms out with a groan.
I moan at the fullness, at the depth, at the way this angle lets him reach places that make my vision blur.
He doesn’t move right away. He stays buried deep, both hands gripping my hips while I pulse around him, already needing more. I start to shift, but he holds me still.
“Slow this time,” he murmurs. “You’re going to take every second.”
Then he moves.
Long, deep strokes that drag through me so slowly it feels like torture. He pulls out almost completely, then slides back in just as unhurried, watching the way my body takes him again and again. My arms shake from holding myself up, so I lower until my cheek’s pressed against the sheet, my hands gripping the mattress, my breath breaking apart.
He fucks me like he has all night. Like he’s memorizing the way I feel from the inside. Each thrust is steady, measured, obscene in its intimacy. I feel everything—every pulse, every stretch, every slow grind against the spot that makes my breath catch.
I whimper and he leans forward, his chest against my back, his mouth at my ear.
“You still want it slow?” he growls, his voice like gravel dragged across skin. “You want me to fuck you like I never let you go?”
“Yes,” I breathe, barely able to speak. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
He kisses the back of my neck, then bites just hard enough to make me shiver, and he keeps fucking me slow and deep, one hand slipping between my thighs to rub my clit in slow circles that match his thrusts.
It builds again, faster this time, more urgent, like my body already knows the path and wants to take it quicker. I try to swallow the sounds, but they keep spilling out—breathy, broken, helpless.
He hears it. He feels it. His hand moves faster and his hips grind deeper.
“I want to feel you come again,” he says, almost snarling the words. “So fucking tight when you come. I want you to come on my cock one more time before I fill you.”
I can’t stop it.
It crashes through me hard and fast, the kind of orgasm that shreds through muscle and leaves me gasping into the sheets. I shake all over, convulsing around him, moaning his name like I’ve lost my mind. I hear him groan—loud and wrecked—and he thrusts harder, finally chasing his own release.
His hands grip tight and he fucks me rough now, just for a few final strokes, and then I feel him lock deep inside and go still as he comes.
His body shakes. His breath hits the back of my neck. I hear the soft grunt in his throat as he spills into the condom, holding himself there, still buried in me, still keeping me exactly where he wants me.
We stay like that for a long second—sweaty, tangled, pressed together while our bodies cool from the fire they just burned through. I feel him kiss my spine once, lower and soft.
Then he pulls out slowly and leans forward, hands bracing on either side of me.
