And he kept moving just like that—Slow, deep and emotional. Every thrust felt like a vow. Every whisper felt like he was trying to stitch us back together from the inside. He held me close and rocked into me like loving me was the only thing that could quiet whatever had been eating him alive these past three weeks.
He never stopped apologizing. He never stopped loving me with his body while he said it, and every stroke felt like he meant every single word.
My hands slid up his back, holding him close while he moved inside me in long, deep strokes that made my chest rise into his. I felt my body melting into him, piece by piece, because he wasn’t just fucking me. He was loving me the way only Pressure ever could.
I lifted his face with both hands as his hips kept moving slow and full inside me. His eyes met mine, dark and wet around the edges, his breath uneven like my touch shook something loose in him. I held him there, close enough for him to feel every word against his lips.
“Baby, I forgive you.”
His whole body reacted and his thrust went deeper without him meaning to. His hands slid around my waist like he needed to hold on to something real. He kissed me again, slow and grateful, while he kept moving in that same deep, loving rhythm, like my forgiveness had just given him back a part of himself he thought he lost.
“You mean everything to me,” he said against my cheek as he kissed it softly. “I love you more than anything. I need you. I need this. I need us, baby.”
He lifted my leg higher around his waist, then pushed his dick deeper, kissing me through the pleasure like he was trying to keep me anchored. His lips moved across my face, over my eyelids, then back to my mouth again, sucking my bottom lip gently while his hips drove into mine slow and full.
Every stroke made my breath shake. Every kiss made my hands cling tighter to him.
“Pressure… baby…” I whispered, my voice breaking as my legs tightened around him.
“I got you,” he whispered, his lips brushing my jaw as he whispered it. “Let it come, baby. I feel you openin’ up for me. I feel this pussy gettin’ wetter. I feel all of you. Give it to me.”
His voice pushed me right over the edge. I held onto the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the orgasm hit me hard, rolling through my body until I was moaning into his mouth. He kissed me through it, sucking my lip, and whispering that he loved me while my whole body shook beneath him.
My orgasm rushed out of me so hard I felt it spill around him, oozing down the curve of my ass and dripping from the base of his dick. The second he felt it, he let out this deep sound in his throat, almost like a growl of pure satisfaction. His hips rolled slow and deep, pushing through every pulse of my climax like he was savoring the way my body clung to him.
“Baby, look at me,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion, not stopping his thrusts. His hand slid to my cheek, guiding my face to his until my eyes lifted to his. My vision blurred and crossed from how hard I was cuming, and the way he looked at me made my stomach flutter even harder.
“That’s it,” he groaned, kissing my nose, kissing the corner of my mouth as my toes curled tight behind his back. “I love how you feel. I love how you let that nut go for me.”
My nails dug into his shoulders and my breath broke into little gasps because he kept moving inside so damn deep, steady and loving, almost like he was rocking me through the aftershocks. My pussy gripped him so tight that every slow push made another warm spill slide down my thighs.
“Pressure… baby…” I whispered, barely getting the words out as my legs shook.
“I’m right here,” he breathed against my lips, kissing me again. “I got you, mama. I feel all of it. You so beautiful when you cum for me.”
His words hit me just as hard as his body. He held my waist, pulled me closer, and let his hips rise into me in these deep, tender strokes that made my orgasm stretch out longer than I could handle. He kissed my forehead, my cheek, then my lips again, tasting my moans while my body trembled.
“That’s my baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with love and gratitude.
He kept stroking me, enjoying the way my pussy tightened around him, enjoying the way my climax drenched him. And every movement felt like he was thanking me for forgiving him, loving me through every shaking breath and showing me with his whole body that I was still his heart.
He kept moving inside me even as my orgasm pulsed, kissing my neck and telling me how much he missed me, how much he loved the way I felt, how he never wanted to be away from me again. When he got close, his pace changed just enough for me to feel it, and for the first time, he slowed down and pulled out, breathing hard against my chest.
The second he slid out of me, he let out a deep, guttural grunt that vibrated against my skin. His hand tightened on my thighand I felt the first warm spill of his nut hit my hips, then roll down in a slow, heavy ribbon that traced the inside of my thigh. The warmth of it made me moan, and he kept stroking himself in long, desperate pulls as more of it dripped onto me, thick and hot, sliding down my skin like he had been waiting weeks for this release.
His hips kept rocking forward even without being inside me, his body still searching for mine and still trying to stay connected in any way he could. He pressed his forehead to my collarbone, breathing hard, letting little sounds escape his throat that he would never make for anyone else. His free hand slid back to my waist, gripping me like he needed to feel me under his palm while the last pulses of his orgasm shook through him.
“Baby… damn,” he whispered against my chest, still moving slow, still grinding gently like he was making love to the moment even after he came.
His fingers spread over my stomach, then slid up to cup my breast while he kissed across my skin, letting his lips travel everywhere he had missed. The way he touched me felt like he was trying to make up for every nights he didn’t hold me. Every kiss felt like he was telling me he would never let that distance happen again.
The last of his release dripped lower, and he dragged his hand down my thigh to catch it with his fingertips, rubbing it gently into my skin like he wanted to mark me with every bit he had. He kissed my stomach, then the curve of my hip, then came back up to my mouth, kissing me slow and deep again while his body settled on top of mine.
“I love you,” he whispered against my lips, his voice rough and low, still shaking a little.
“I love you more,” I replied, holding him tight.
His words, his weight, his breath, his touch; all of it wrapped around me.
