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His lips are even softer than I imagined they would be. His tongue flicks and glides over my skin. Warm breath and cool air tease my nipples into painfully rigid peaks.
When he sucks one into his mouth, I buck on his lap and nearly unravel right then.
“Oh, fuck…” I gasp, letting out another wordless cry that’s immediately swallowed up by the rolling thunder above us.
I rest my chin on the top of his head as he suckles and tugs. Every pull into his mouth sends a wave of pleasure straight to the ache building between my legs. When I feel his fingers stroke my slit, my body jerks violently as electricity speeds up and down my spine.
I’ve never felt this much, and we haven’t even gotten to the actual sex part yet.
He arches back and stares at my face while he presses two fingers inside me. I’m so wet that there’s next to no pressure. Just a whole lot of soft bliss that works its way into my body and irons out all the knots I’ve been carrying around with me for the past two years.
We’re gazing into each other's eyes, which only makes this hotter. More intense. More intimate.
But it’s more than that.
It’sjarring, too.
In my (admittedly limited) experience, men tend to focus on everything below the neck when you’re sleeping together. Like they’d prefer if you were a blow-up doll instead of, like, an actual human being with thoughts and feelings and eyeballs.
But this man?Thisman gazes at me with an intensity that’s equal parts predatory and hypnotizing—like he can’t decide if he’s going to devour me or possess me. I’m inclined to believe “both” with the way he strokes and presses inside me, his thumb massaging until I’m on the edge of begging him for mercy.
Instead, I shatter. And it’s more, so much more, because he’s not satisfied with simply letting me ride it out on his fingers. He fists his other hand in my hair at the nape of my neck so I have nowhere to look but at him—and instead of letting me ride to my own completion, he thrusts his fingers and coaxes me to new heights.
If someone’s feelings are going to be dragged through the mud here, it won’t be his. He’s the one in control. I’m the one losing what little ground I had to begin with.
And even still…
“Fuck me.”
The words fall out of my lips like a whispered prayer. I’ve never in my life uttered those words. I’ve never even dared to consider it.
But it’s hard to be aware of the rules right now, even my own self-made ones. I feel like I’m in a suspended reality where anything goes.
I feel strong, and I almost never feel strong.
I feel confident, and I’m not a confident person.
I feel sexy, and I’ve always been scared of my own sexuality.
But not now. Not with him. Not like this.
His hands glide to my hips and raise me up. At this angle, it’s easier to rest my brow against his, andoh my godis it intimate. I more than half-expect him to push me away, but instead, he only flicks his gaze low long enough to undo his pants, pushing down the zipper to release his erection.
Our lips are only inches apart, our breathing nearly synchronized, and instead of closing the distance, he teases me by making me want it more.
I take one look at his cock and it all makes perfect sense to me. There’s no way he could be anything but confident and charismatic when he’s packing a beast like that.
“You’re gonna break me,” I whisper fearfully.
Something wild flits across his face. His eyes are a mesmerizing misty blue with deep hazel that almost glows around his irises. They’re the one part of him that betrays just how close to losing control he really is.
“I don’t break anything I have no interest in fixing,” he says as his cock rubs against my slit.
I’m still afraid. But the moment he pushes himself inside me, I no longer care.
There’s no room to be anything but alive.
5
