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And that’s new too.

A guy taking charge of every single detail.

Once the latex is on me, I hold the base of my dick, offering it to him while he slicks me up, then wipes off his hand too.

With a steely focus, Tanner climbs over me, then meets my gaze. His eyes are molten. “Gimme that big dick now,” he commands.

I try not to smile as I hold my cock for him. Really I do. But it’s a futile effort. I’m so fucking excited I can’t stand it. I can’t stay quiet either. “Fuck yes, baby. Take that dick,” I urge.

He’s quiet as he guides the head against his hole. His jaw is tight, his expression tense as he lets me breach him.

I wait for him to make the next move. I wait as patiently as I can while wires trip and circuits overload, and I want to shout this is so good.

On a low, filthy rumble, he sinks down, letting out a satisfied sigh that I want to remember forever.

When his tight body surrounds my shaft completely, I nearly hoot. I can’t shut up. “God, I’m so fucking excited to fuck you,” I say.

Wow.

Is that me?

Do I talk like that during sex?

No. I’ve never said that. I’ve never felt this sort of frenetic rush of sensation. It’s like the end of a big win, when everyone crowds the field, and my body is just popping with adrenaline and joy.

That’s it. I feel joy.

It’s foreign for me to feel this way in bed, so I don’t know why this emotion is bursting in me now.

But I try to go with it. To ride the thrill I feel.

That’s no hardship, especially when he leans forward, pressing his palms on my abs, and says, “But I’m fucking your cock, Luke.”

“You are,” I say with a groan as he works that firm, fine ass up and down in a long, slow tease.

I burn everywhere.

And I can’t look away while he seduces my dick with his sensual moves. The sway of his hips. The rock of his pelvis. The flames in his eyes.

That excitement thrumming in me melts away, becoming something else—something dizzying, something potent. Something I can’t quite name as Tanner owns my body with his skillful moves. While his strong hands have my chest pinned, I’m pretty sure it’s his intensity that has me in his thrall.

I’m aching everywhere as he just rocks, slow and easy, on my dick. That smooth, languid rhythm makes me pant and moan. With a flick of his chin, he says, “This what you wanted from me?”

It’s a direct question. I don’t usually break down sentences into chunks, but this time I do.

He didn’t say this what you wanted?

He said this what you wanted…from me?

The raw truth hits me all at once. I didn’t just want this position. I wanted it from him.

Because it’s hot?

Maybe?

Trying to figure out the answer, I stare at his powerful body, his strong muscles flexing and tensing, his gorgeous cock smacking my stomach. Sure, the view is smoldering. Yes, I wanted to watch him ride me.

But when my gaze lands on his face, I keep it there. Cataloging the tightness in his jaw, the parting of his lips, and the desire in his eyes.

Most of all, the way my breath catches as I look at him.

That’s the answer.

I want to see his face.

The realization both relaxes my mind and amps up my body. Curling my fingers tighter around his hips, I grip him, rough. “Yeah, I want this from you,” I tell him, then I get to work showing him.

I thrust up into him.

“Ahhh,” he grunts out, tossing his head back, the veins in his neck throbbing.

“You like that?”

“Fucking love it,” he answers.

I jerk him back down onto me. And soon, we become a sex machine. Thrusting, rocking, fucking.

It’s a beautiful sight—Tanner Sloan riding my dick as sweat slides down his chest. I love how overheated he gets. How hot his skin is. How messy he looks with his hair all askew.

Our grunts and groans fill his room, along with the slap of flesh, the scent of sweaty sex. The sounds and the smell wind me up. But most of all, it’s the sight of him that has me spinning with lust. Spinning, too, into the next things I see in our sex playbook.

“Get on your back, baby. My turn on top,” I demand, smacking the side of his ass.

With an aggrieved moan, he eases off me, shifting as directed. In no time, he’s lifting his legs for me, and I settle between those muscular thighs and push back in.

His chest heaves as I fill him again. “Yeah, fuck me good, Remy,” he says, then his eyes close and his head sinks back into the pillow.

But that won’t do.

“Watch me,” I bark out. “Watch me fuck you.”

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