He smiles—a real, full smile that transforms his face and makes my heart skip. “Good.”
We lay together, my head on his chest, his arm around me, both of us caught in a comfortable silence. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, and I sigh in contentment.
“I have a confession,” I say after a while, tilting my head to look at him.
He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
“I may have been...preparing for this,” I admit, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. “For a while now.”
His brow furrows slightly. “Preparing?”
I bite my lip. “I bought some...toys. Monster-sized ones. For...practice.”
His eyes widen, then darken. I feel him twitch against my thigh, already hardening again.
“You’ve been fucking yourself with monster-sized dildos,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Thinking of me.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway, suddenly shy despite everything we’ve just done.
He growls, rolling me beneath him. “Show me.”
“What?”
“Next time,” he says, pressing a kiss to my neck. “Show me how you use them.”
The thought sends a fresh wave of heat through me. “You’d like that?”
“I’d love it,” he confirms, his hand sliding down my body, finding me still wet and sensitive. “But right now, I want to be inside you again.”
He flips me over, arranging me on my hands and knees again. This time, he enters me in one smooth thrust, my body still slick and open from before.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice full of awe. “Taking me so well. Your hot, wet, tight cunt feels like heaven.”
The dirty talk from his usually reserved mouth sends a shiver down my spine. He sets a faster pace this time, one hand gripping my hip, the other reaching around to circle my clit.
“You’re so responsive,” he praises as I push back against him. “So perfect for me.”
I clutch at the sheets, overwhelmed by the dual stimulation, by the fullness, by his words. Each thrust pushes me closer to the edge, his fingers working me relentlessly.
When I come this time, it’s with a broken cry, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. He groans, slowing his pace to help me ride it out.
Before I’ve fully recovered, he’s turning me again, this time onto my back. He settles between my thighs, lifting my legs to wrap around his waist.
“I want to see your face,” he explains, his eyes locked with mine as he pushes back inside. “I want to watch you come apart for me again.”
I reach for his horns, using them as leverage as he begins to move. The angle is different like this, deeper somehow, and I can feel every inch of him dragging against my sensitive walls.
His pace is punishing now, his control slipping as he chases his own release. I hold onto his horns, my legs tightening around him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Come with me,” he demands, his voice strained. “One more time.”
His thumb finds my clit, circling with precise pressure, and it’s too much. I arch beneath him, crying out his name as a final orgasm crashes through me, more intense than the others, leaving me trembling and breathless.
He follows moments later, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself inside me again. I feel the warmth of his release, so much of it that it spills out around him, soaking the sheets beneath us.
“Don’t move,” he instructs me, and I don’t. He returns with a warm washcloth and cleans me up. Then wraps me up in a cozy, flannel blanket.
He collapses beside me, careful not to crush me, and pulls me against his chest. For a long time, we just breathe together, neither of us capable of speech.
