I feel his hard thickness against my thigh, and despite two orgasms I want more. Want him. Want everything.
“I need you,” I breathe. “Inside me. Now.”
He reaches into his nightstand, pulling out a condom, and I watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he rolls it on. Watching him stroke down his length makes my core clench with renewed need.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he says, positioning himself at my entrance. “About being inside you. About making you mine in every way.”
“Then stop dreaming,” I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, “and make it real.”
He slides into me in one slow, devastating thrust.
We both freeze, breathing hard. He’s big—bigger than I remember, or maybe I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be this full, this complete.
“Okay?” His voice is strained, muscles trembling with the effort of staying still.
“More than okay.” I roll my hips experimentally.
He groans, the sound almost pained, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily. “Don’t—” His forehead drops to my shoulder. “Christ, Desiree, don’t move yet. I need a second.”
“Enrick?”
“It’s been years for me,” he grits out. “And you feel so fucking good. I’m trying really hard not to embarrass myself in the next ten seconds.”
The admission makes me clench around him, and he makes a strangled sound.
“You’re not helping.”
I can’t help it—I laugh, the sound breathless and delighted. “It’s okay if you—”
“It’s not okay.” He pulls back, looking down at me with dark, desperate eyes. “I want to make this good for you. I want—”
I cut him off with a kiss. “You already made it good for me. Twice. Four times if we count earlier. This is for you.”
“Desiree—”
I roll my hips again, deliberately this time, and watch his control shred. His eyes flutter closed, jaw clenching, and then he’s moving—three hard, frantic thrusts before he stills with a groan that sounds like my name and surrender combined.
He buries his face in my neck as he comes, his whole body shaking, and I hold him through it, running my hands down his back.
When he finally lifts his head, his cheeks are flushed, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t move,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right back.”
He pulls out carefully, and I watch him cross to the bathroom, unselfconscious in his nakedness. The light from the bathroom spills across the bedroom for a moment before he flicks it off, returning to me in the darkness.
I am still half-dazed that this is real. After six years, we found our way back to each other.
The mattress dips as he climbs back in, and then his arms are around me, pulling me against his chest. His skin is warm, and I burrow into him, fitting myself against the solid planes of his body.
“That was—”
“Hot,” I finish for him.
“I was going to say mortifying.”
“It was hot,” I insist. “Knowing I affect you that much? That you couldn’t control it? That’s incredibly hot.”
He kisses me. “Give me thirty minutes,” he murmurs against my lips. “Maybe twenty. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’m counting on it.”
