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I can’t breathe.
“Quiet, angel.” He braces one hand on my lower back and one hand on my hip.
“I’m scared. I’m—I’m scared it’ll hurt.”
“It will. You took three fingers. Do you need four to be sure?”
I picture his fingers. “No—no. I can—I can do this.”
“Lily.” His palm moves over my spine, over my skin, his voice an echo of that touch. “You know I’ll take care of you, right?”
My chest hitches, and there’s heat all around my heart, and I know, Iknow,that this is because we’ve been having intense sex, but it’s not only that, is it? It’s Jameson’s hand in my hair on the beach and the raw emotion in his voice when he told me about his parents and how he’s coached me through all of this, every part, he’s never left me alone.
“I know. I do. I know.”
“Take a deep breath, angel. Another one. There. Concentrate on opening up for me. I’m going to push. You can do this. You’re my best girl.”
He pushes, stretching me wider than before. Jameson’s shaking, too, because he’s holding back. Jameson has all the power in this scenario. He could fuck me, without waiting, if he wanted. Instead, he takes it slow, stretching me around every millimeter of him.
“Widest part,” he soothes, his palm warm on my lower back. “Lean into it. Fuck, that’s right, fuck,fuck, that’s good. Good girl.” I can’t actually take control, but I cantry, and that’s power, too. “Take a minute. I’m going to—Christ. I’m going to wait here a minute.”
My body clenches around him, and I can’t help tilting my hips. I want him deeper. I want movement the way I want music when I’m on the aerial hoop.
“Jameson? I don’t want to wait. Please. I want you to move. I want you inside.” I didn’t know I was crying somuch,but now that I know, I can’t stop. “Please, fuck me.”
“Jesus. Just a second, angel.” More slick lube where I’m stretched around him, and then Jameson curses, loud, rough. His hands work at my wrists, and I’m released, but only into his hands. He pulls me up on my knees and pushes my palms against the glass, his big hands covering mine, and breaks. “God, Lily. Fuck. Fuck. This feels so fucking good. You’re an angel.”
He drives into me, the new stretch taking my breath away. Tears stream down my cheeks, not because I’m sad, not because I’m hurt, because this is intense, how I’ve always wanted to feel, free, free,free. Jameson keeps his hands over mine and works his hips in shallow thrusts. He licks the side of my neck, sucks ithard, bites that tender spot. He finds my earlobe and takes it between his lips, then drags his mouth back to my shoulder. He buries his face in my hair and fucks me and fucks me andfucks—
A low grunt, and one of his hands traces a path down my front to between my legs. His fingertips are light and familiar on my clit. It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s sheer pleasure, building under his touch.
“It’s going to be a lot,” he manages. “When you come on my fingers. It’s going to be a lot, angel. Can you take it?”
“Give.” I’ve lost the other words. Takes a second to find them. “Give it to me.”
Jameson’s fingers speed on my clit, and it’s like a spin on my hoop. Fast, then faster, then I’m at the peak and coming hard while he fucks my ass.
Itisa lot. Every muscle tightens around him, and I moan into the window, surviving how big he feels when I come. Jameson never stops thrusting. He fucks me all the way through my orgasm and pushes the length of his body up against mine. Both hands back on the window. His release ripples through all of him, through his abs and his cock, and it’s so hot inside me, so intimate and filthy and right. My vision dims. I’m overloaded with oxygen.
I come back to myself to find Jameson’s head on my shoulder, resting. Anyone could walk by and see us like this. I can’t bring myself to care.
“Is it better?” I pant, my voice sounding far away. “Is it a little better? Please, say it’s a little better. I tried to be good.”
“Angel,” he says, or I think he says. I’m in his arms the next moment. The bathroom, I think. Water runs. A warm washcloth all over me.
“I think you’re hot. Really hot.”
“I know you do.”
“Keep touching me.”
He does.
We go into a dark room. There are soft sheets and pillows that smell like him. He tips me into them and covers me. Strokes my back. I wish he’d get in bed with me. I can keep his nightmares away. I’m sure I can.
“Is it better?” I ask. I can’t tell if I’m already dreaming or not.
“Of course it is,” he answers. “So much better.”
