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He pulls back until only the tip remains inside and then pushes back in. He repeats this motion again and again. Every time is so agonizingly slow, I might break apart just from the torture of it. My nails dig into the palm of my hand while his hands grip my knees. He leans down to kiss me while he rolls his hips.
He whispers against my lips, “You feel so good, baby.”
Then, his hips start to move, and his thrusts become more powerful. My own hands play with my nipples, and Brazen’s fingers go to my clit. He grunts as he rises up and rocks against me harder. I match his motions, and we find a perfect rhythm.
It’s the perfect mix of rough and tender.
His words are soft, but his touch is firm.
His speed is slow, but his thrusts are solid.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to move or walk again.
“Brazen!” I moan through my orgasm.
He groans through his. Still inside me, he falls on top of my body and breathes into my chest.
“Noah, I think you might have been made for me.” And, just like that, Brazen has taken an already ideal moment and made it beyond compare.
