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I don’t know if it’s his wild heart racing or mine, or a mix of both, where we’re pressed chest to chest.

“I promise.”

Emerson

I’m used to a teasing Dillon. The one who loves to watch me squirm while he rubs my prostate until I’m so close I could cry, just to ease up and pepper kisses across my stomach until I’m far enough from the edge to start up all over again. So, when he finally sinks inside me, I’m a delirious mess with a single focus.

I’m used to rough Dillon, who holds me down and talks me through a fucking so thorough, I feel how he used me the whole next day.

I’m used to sleepy Dillon, who watches me ride him with his lips swollen from my mouth and a hand wrapped around my cock until I can’t anymore, and he flips us over and finishes the job with deep, short strokes.

What I am not used to is being subjected to the brutal way slow sex makes me hyper-aware of everything. Every measured pull, every leisurely thrust back inside making me feel every single inch until he pauses deep enough, I moan. I want him to fuck. To force my mind and body into the release I crave.

He’s winding me up so slowly, it’s torture.

It’s different this time. And it has nothing to do with the fact that we’re in my bedroom, in my bed, and everything to do with the fact that he won’t let this be what it always is.

Every time my nails dig into his skin, he counteracts the harshness with a gentle caress.

Every time my teeth sink into his flesh, he forces me to slow with his parted lips a breath from mine, breathing into each other.

I press up for more; he pulls out and denies me feeling him deep where I want him.

It’s the most brutal fucking he’s ever given me.

And that was before the eye contact.

Before his words.

“Will you miss this?”

Dillon tucks his face in the crook of my neck and inhales, groaning and pressing as deep as he can get. “You smell so fucking good, Emerson. I love smelling you on my sheets the nights you leave me."

“Dill,” I gasp, gripping the sheets in my fists when he angles my hips higher and gives me a single hard stroke.

“I’ll miss the way your hole stretches so perfectly for my cock, baby. The way you can take everything I give you and still want more.”

His eyes find mine in the low light of my room, and I groan when he drags across my sweet spot. “I’ll miss the way you taste. The way you moan. The way you move. Your skin pressed against mine.” He rolls his forehead across mine. “Your voice. Your laugh. The way you ramble about everything.”

“Dillon, please…”

“Which part of this will you be laughing about when I leave and this is all over? I don’t think how badly I crave you is funny at all.”

He doesn’t force my orgasm with hard thrusts and dirty words. He drags it out of me slowly. Reverently.

And ruins me in the process.

To: EBStyles

From: DMont95

Subject: sleepy baby

I don’t expect a response. Hell, I don’t even know if you’ll read this. I didn’t want to wake you up this morning. Just wanted you to know that I did kiss you before I left. No rules broken. (At least not that one.)

Xoxo

“I think we had romantical sex.” I chew on the side of my thumb and wait for the whole entire world to implode at my admission.