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“Yes. Please. Finger me.” I was shameless, so far beyond caring. All I could do was hold on to the headboard and hope he obeyed. There was a rustle of paper and plastic, the snick of whatever primo lube Malik had ordered opening, and then—blessed mercy—firm, slick pressure at my rim.
Whatever brand he’d decided on was good stuff, slippery, not gummy, slick and thick without being ice cold, and I could feel the warmth and callouses on his fingers. He teased me with little circles, pressing and retreating.
“Hmmm. I think you might have a point on angles mattering. This position is sexy as hell, but I want to do this right—”
“You are. Trust me, you are.” I didn’t want to move, only wanted more of that delicious pressure, but when he gave my hip a firm tap, I obediently moved back. I’d decided the other night exactly how I wanted to get done, so I swung off him completely and went to my knees, lying facedown on the bed, head on the mattress, knees under me, ass open and exposed. Unlike a few minutes ago, I didn’t feel quite so stripped bare, need having replaced any embarrassment at displaying my ass.
“Oh fuck. You are so damn hot like this.” Malik groaned as he palmed and squeezed my ass. That helped, too, the way he seemed so into me, the more needy and shameless, the better. He reached over me to grab the lube again, adding more to his fingers. I wanted to tell him to get on with it, stop being so detail-oriented, but beyond my ever-present impatience, I liked how careful he was with me. He made me feel precious and special.
He was almost comically slow, easing one finger in, but rather than being a smart mouth, I decided to enjoy it for once. He stretched me gently, clearly having paid attention to all those reminders in the article about no such thing as too much lube and taking time to let the body adjust, which might have been handy to know before I’d fooled around on my own in the past. By the time he worked up to a second finger, I was back in that almost meditative pleasure coma. And then the entire damn universe lit up.
“Sweet Jesus, do that again.” So much for not demanding.
“I think we found your prostate.” Malik sounded so proud I might have laughed if I weren’t desperate for him to do more. Luckily, he repeated the motion, pressing deeply and firmly with his fingertips, a spot I’d grazed on my own a couple of times, but nothing like this. “Angle, okay?”
“I fucking love your right hand.” My voice slurred like it was the middle of the night, not a sunny, snowy morning. “And God, I love snow days. Fuck me. Now.”
“So demanding,” he chided as he did something new, spreading his two fingers, stretching me more. Which was probably a good idea seeing as how he was hung, but I was rapidly losing patience for prep. And it burned more this way, not painful, but flirting with the edge of uncomfortable.
“I’m good. Put it in already.”
“You’re so romantic, baby.” Malik dropped a kiss to the middle of my back.
“Sorry. You’re the king of dirty talk, not me. Fuck me with your horse cock before I die of old age. Better?”
Malik laughed, which shouldn’t have been sexy but totally was. I loved how silly we could be with each other, even with something this serious. I peered back over my shoulder at him, grinning simply because I could. After wiping his fingers with a towel he must have put near the lube, he grabbed the condom box, pulled one out, and then laughed some more as he hopelessly botched the first one he tried.
“Fuck. You’d think I’d never put a condom on before.”
“Or that you were the one with only one arm.”
“Oh, you laugh now…” He swatted me on the ass, which was exactly the reaction I’d hoped for. And laughing at me relaxed him enough that the second condom rolled on perfectly. And fuck, condoms weren’t supposed to be sexy, but Malik’s dick apparently did it for me, even covered in latex.
“Ready? Or did you reach senior citizen status and need a nap first?” Still chuckling, he moved behind me.
“Fuck you. No, wait, fuck me. Now.”
“Such an impatient, bossy brat.” He managed to make that sound like the best endearment ever. Skimming his hands down my torso, he took a moment to trace my left arm, which I’d folded to pillow my head. “Arms doing okay?”
“Never better.” I grit my teeth to keep from grabbing his dick and impaling my own damn self. “Don’t make me pound out pushups, Lieutenant. Just fuck me.”
No more one-liners or overly helpful questions, he moved forward, bracing one hand on my back and the other on his cock as he pushed in, and I forgot how to breathe for several long moments.
