The tears subsided as he started moving, slow and steady and sweet.
My hands again moved on him, loving, encouraging.
He kept moving, I kept encouraging.
And I loved it, every inch, every stroke, every touch, the smell of him, of us.
But I also felt like we were both teetering on the brink of a dive we wanted to take, and Gabe was holding back.
I got it, what he was doing.
I loved it, what he wanted to give me.
I revered it, that he was the kind of man who would want to give it.
But I broke the kiss and whispered, “Baby, I won’t break. Let go.”
He held my eyes.
I cupped his head in one hand, brought his mouth back to mine, kissed him hard, reached with my other hand, and dug my heels into his back just as I sank my nails into his hard swell of his ass.
He groaned and went faster.
Harder.
Oh yes.
I scored my nails up his back.
There it was.
Gabe started fucking me.
Yes.
We kept kissing, then, when we couldn’t anymore, we panted against each other’s lips. With each hard thrust, he banged against my clit in a way I knew just taking him was all I’d need.
But then he skated his hand between us, dipped in, and he performed some miracle with his thumb on my clit.
And instantaneously, I flew.
Clutching him, whimpering his name, my sex rippling around his driving cock, I came, and came some more when he grunted, “Fuck yeah, baby.”
Having given me that, he rode me wild until he shoved his face in my neck a second before it whipped back on a grunt, then a long groan as he bucked inside me two, three, four, five times, and stopped, sheathed in me. Finally, his powerful body fully tensed, giving a strong, delicious shudder, before it relaxed.
I took his weight for a beat before he rolled us again, me on top.
We’d done it.
It was official.
Now he was my man.
And I was his woman.
Delighted by the thought, I nuzzled his bearded jaw, roamed his corded throat with my fingertips, and he smoothed his hands over my back as we both came down.
And of course, Gabe was affectionate and touchy after sex.
