I follow the tremors up his body to his face—eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip caught between his teeth, this little furrow between his brows like he's concentrating so fucking hard. And when his entire body jerks, a grunt punching out of him, I almost come. “How many fingers?”
“Two . . . about to add . . . another.”
“That's it, baby. Get yourself ready.”
After a few minutes, Ryan pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the sheets, then reaching for the lube to pour it onto my dick.
I sit up and grab his wrist. “Wait. Need a condom.”
Ryan looks at me, still panting. “We don't have to—”
“Not happening without one. I haven't been tested in a while.”
His face falls, shoulders dropping. “I . . . I don't have any.”
“I do.” I shift him off me, ignoring the way his expression goes flat. “Two seconds.”
I get up and cross the room to my dresser, yanking open my underwear drawer. Still have a strip from before all this marriage shit started. I tear one off with my teeth and roll it on.
When I walk back over, Ryan's staring at my dick, wrapped tight in latex.
“Get me nice and slick, baby.”
He grabs the lube with shaking hands, pouring it over my length. His fingers wrap around me, stroking root to tip, spreading it everywhere.
I buck hard when he keeps stroking. “Enough. Want you to ride me until you can't fucking walk tomorrow.”
Ryan tosses the bottle of lube onto the floor as I get back on the bed. Then he climbs over me, those massive thighs bracketing my hips. His cock's standing straight out from his body, thick and leaking. When he reaches to grab my dick, lining me up with his hole, my entire body tenses.
“Ride my fucking dick, baby. Make it yours.”
Ryan lowers himself, and the second my head pushes past that tight ring of muscle, he freezes. His thighs are trembling, breath coming in short pants, sweat already beading on his forehead. “Fuck.”
“Take your time.” My fingers dig into the sheets, fighting every instinct to thrust up into his tight heat.
He sinks another inch, then another, working himself onto my length with little rolls of his hips. Every movement has him clenching around me so fucking tight I see stars.
“Jesus Christ, Ryan.”
He gets about halfway, then stops again, chest heaving. “Give me . . . give me a minute.”
“Take however long you need, baby.”
My dick's throbbing inside him, desperate for more, but I keep still as he adjusts, breathing through it. He moves again, slow and controlled, until finally his ass meets my thighs. “Holy fuck.”
He takes my hands and places them on his hips, moving with these small experimental rolls at first. He's so fucking tight, hot as hell, and squeezing my dick like a vise.
“You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Feel so fucking good, like you were made for me.”
He lifts an inch, then drops back down. Does it again, this time rising higher, and fuck if he isn't already figuring out the rhythm. “Connor . . . fuck . . . so full.”
“Jesus . . . Ryan.” I thrust up as he drops down and we both grunt.
His hands fly to my chest for balance, nails digging into my skin. “Wanted this for so long. Oh, God . . . Connor. Can’t . . . can’t get enough.”
My hands tighten on his hips as he picks up speed, finding exactly what works for him. The sight of him taking control, using my dick like he owns it . . . Fuck, my balls are already drawing up tight.
Ryan changes position, leaning back for a different angle. His hand reaches behind, grabs my balls, rolling them in his palm while he rides me harder.
