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His soft breaths, after the first two movements, grow into a moan and I raise my eyes to him as he mouths, “Holy shit, Espie” to me, and I grin up at him, watching his reaction as I do it again.
“Fuck.” He whispers a bit louder, head pressed back against the headrest, and I continue to suck harder, moving faster, and so hot and turned on. I love the way his jaw clenches when he tilts his chin, love the look in his eyes when I caress my tongue over him a certain way, and just absolutely everything about him.
I continue to suck, moving faster and faster, until he tugs on my hair and I look at him confused.
“Come here.” He whispers and I pull myself onto his chest. His hands are under my hair, and he’s shaking his head like I’m unbelievable, and I love that feeling. This whole time he’s been the expert, but this, I feel superb at. And it gives me a sense of accomplishment.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He whispers, lifting my hips, so they’re above his length, knees on either side of him. I nod gently.
“Are you sure, Espie?” He studies my face and there is that thing behind his eyes again, that thought he won’t tell me, the one that I’d rather ignore, so that everything we’re doing, will continue. That’s precisely what I’ll do then because I’ve made it this far and because I want him completely, even though I know the cost.
I’ve convinced myself that Vince is nowhere near helping me, that I’m trapped with the beast who might be a prince who might also still be the beast. I can’t figure out which version of him is real, but I am being held by one of those versions now. And he’s sweet and endearing, and hot and adamant.
His hands hold my hips steady as they hover over him, our bodies slightly dissolved, sweaty, longing. He won’t break his eyes from me, barely has this entire time, and I think it’s making me want this even more. Because besides the stage distance that only happens every-so-often, he is looking at me like I’m the only person in the world who he wants or will want ever again.
I like that feeling, like the look of this beautiful ring on my finger even if it is a fickle promise, and maybe I just like being wanted, but at least I’m making a choice. Right here, right now, I want him. And I’ll be damned if I let the rules, my perfectionism, or any sort of familiar guilt, stop me from this.
“Espie?” He whispers, trailing my lips. This is a thing we do. I thought it was just because we liked to touch each other, but I think it’s turned into an unspoken term of endearment. Shit, am I actually delusional now?
“Yes?” I shake my head, and he pulls his finger away. I’m sitting on his stomach now, his fingertips are lightly stroking up and down my thighs as he studies me, biting his lip.
“You’re somewhere else tonight.” His brows go low and serious.
“I’m not.” I lie.
He nods to disagree. “If you don’t want to—“
“Don’t.” I cover his mouth, and he furrows his brow, peeling my hand away from his perfect lips.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.” I nod, my body vibrating with the word like it’s a superpower to order him to fuck me.
“I’m not gonna hold back…” he trails like a warning, looking down my torso like he’s hungry, then back in my eyes with a new look of pursuit. I’m his now, I’ve said, and he knows it. I’ll do anything to have him.
“I wouldn’t want you to.” I force out, though my heart is racing endlessly. With that, he picks me up and lays me on my back instantly, hand still under me as his hard length nears my opening. The closer he gets, eyes focused on my face as I watch, the more I begin to feel nervous.
He’s huge, at least I think he is. Not that I have anyone to compare to… but what if it doesn’t fit, what if it hurts, and it ruins sex for me forever? I shake again at the thought, and though I try to play it off by jostling my head, I think it’s obvious. His brows pull together for a moment, rivets in his cheeks growing larger as he purses his full lips.
His hand beside my head lifts, finding a new place to rest. My cheeks grow pink under his touch as he lifts my eyes to him.
“Breathe.” He reminds me and takes a deep breath in to demonstrate, nodding for me to join. I take a shaky breath, let it out steadily with him. We’re a mirror of breaths for a second, and then he just kisses me. Like he really wants to, like my lips remind him of their need for his, and I fall into him and down this rabbit hole of lust and longing until his tip is at my opening. He pulls his eyes to mine. They’re toggling, dancing back and forth to see if I’m okay.
I nod, breathing in his scent as I lift my hips to his, forcing his length into me. A short breath escapes his mouth and I bite my lip because for the first time we’re both in a state of pleasure and trepidation and neither one of us wants to stop. So, we don’t. His hand reaches down, grabbing one of my hips and tilting it up slightly as he enters me very slowly.
With every movement inside me the urge to moan grows more intense, and though it sounds dramatic, I could come right now by how good he feels in me. It’s the craziest, best feeling. He’s big, definitely, but I’m not worried if he’ll fit anymore. Because he’s almost all the way in. I want him to go faster, want this to never end; his slick tattooed skin on mine, his hands all over my body, him inside me so that we’re no longer two fragments of a torn quilt, but stitched up and serving a purpose as one.
He lowers his lips to mine with a hot breath, and I let impulse take over, shoving my hips to his until they knock against his. That's the brief pain I was told happens for the first time, the ripping feeling that sears through me for a moment.
I wince, clenching my teeth together. Adrik completely stops moving, grabbing my chin until I open my eyes.
“Why’d you do that?”
“You were making me wait.”
“For good reason.” He’s gentle with me, and for some reason that makes me emotional. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, lips trembling embarrassingly, so I try to look away, but he doesn’t let me.
“I’m okay.” I force the emotions away, grip onto him, so he knows this is what I want, to really give it to me the way he promised.
