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He reached for his night table and opened the drawer. Pulling out a foil packet, he laid it beside my head.
He held himself above me, his eyes roaming over my body, and I did the same to him.
His body was muscular and masculine, the hard length of him jutting proudly out of his body.
I reached down, and gripped him in my hand, feeling him twitch.
He swallowed thickly as I smoothed my hand up and down, rubbing my thumb over the sensitive pink head. A small drop of liquid coated my thumb and I swirled it around.
He gazed down at me and a small smile graced his lips.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, reaching for the condom packet.
He ripped it open and together we fixed it onto his length.
“Ready?” He asked.
“I’ve been ready,” I panted, “you’re the one that insists on dragging this out.”
He chuckled huskily. “Perfection takes time, baby, and you deserve nothing less.”
“I thought you said perfection doesn’t exist?”
“It doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth searching for,” he reached between us and guided his thick length to my entrance. He squeezed inside, just an inch and stopped. “Oh, God,” he moaned.
My heart beat faster at the intrusion. Trace was large, and I had only had sex once before, my body still unaccustomed to the foreign feeling.
He slid inside slowly, the rest of the way, and stopped there.
He looked down at me and panted, “I was wrong. Perfection does exist and it’s right here. With me inside you.”
I gasped as he pulled out, and then rolled his hips forward, slamming firmly back into me.
I clawed at his back, desperately seeking something to hold onto, and anchor myself.
He reached around, and undid my hands from his neck, then entwined our fingers together once more as he slowly rocked in and out of me.
This was making love.
“You’re so tight, Olivia,” he panted before frantically seeking my lips and sealing them with his own.
The temperature in the room rose and I wondered if we were close to lighting the small apartment on fire with the friction we were creating.
Sweat dotted his skin and dampened his hair.
He released my hands and gripped the wooden headboard in his hands.
The change in position left me gasping in pleasure. “Right there,” I encouraged, raking my fingernails up and down his back.
His jaw tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Look at me, Trace,” I pleaded like he had with me earlier. I needed to see him. I needed to know that he was feeling all the same things that I was.
He complied, bright green eyes connecting with my own.
“It’s never felt this good before,” he confessed and peppered my face with kisses.
A low moan built in his throat and he reached between us, rubbing his thumb over my clit.
