His gaze finds mine as his cock sinks into me. I feel it with my whole body. Every time. The thick, stiff invasion that seems to push so deep Imustbear down, push back. Every time. When I whimper and writhe, he gentles me with kisses, sweet murmurs as he begins to thrust that big dick I love so much. In. Out.
“There you go,” he whispers, working me. “You’re doing so good, being so quiet for me.”
The low encouragement makes me clench with deep pulses of heat. Here, in this moment, I’ll do whatever he asks of me and beg for more. Our gazes lock as we take each other. The look in his eyes, molten silver beneath lowered lids, as if he’s burning for me. As if I’m his world. My belly clenches so tightly it’s almost painful.
August. I mouth his name, unable to speak. But he hears it.
As if weak with lust, his head dips, our mouths brushing, exchanging air as his thrusts go harder, deeper. “Pen.” He shivers, rotates his hips in that small urgent circle that makes me whine with need.
“I’m not going to last.” Breath catches in my throat. “You’re so...”
“You’re taking me so well.” He adjusts his angle, finding a spot that feels so good, I sob into his panting mouth.
“Shhhh . . .” he says.
Thick slabs of muscle tremble along his back. I slide my hands down to the hard rise of his ass and squeeze. It’s his turn to moan, tilting his head so he can bury it in the curve of my neck. We’re torturing each other now, and I love it. His teeth sink oh so gently into the meat of my neck, and his hand moves to cup my breast. I’m close, so close. I know he is too. He’s becoming messy with it, using short, brutal thrusts. I love this part.
And when he finds my nipple and plucks it, I break apart.
He holds me there, letting me shake and come, my lips pressed to his shoulder to keep it in. A moment later, he follows me, and it’s my turn to hold him close.
We stay like that for a while. Until the sounds of the house waking, our family talking and fixing breakfast, makes us stir.
Slowly, as if he’s lost all strength, August eases to the side, slipping free. He gathers me close and sets my head on his damp shoulder where his heart thrums against his chest. Gentle hands stroke my hair.
When he speaks, it almost sounds overloud in the contented quiet. “I had every intention of taking my time with you. But you were too soft and delicious. And my will is weak.”
“Hmm.” I nuzzle the small oval of his nipple. “We’ll just have to try again later.”
August clutches the mass of my hair and turns toward me. “I vote for now.”
“There’s that stamina I love so much.”
He pauses, gaze colliding with mine. His expression is strange, piercing but also hesitant. “Do you?”
The intensity of his tone catches me off guard, but before I can answer, March’s voice booms from the other side of door. “Oi! Are you two up?”
With a noise of annoyance, August glares at the door. “If we weren’t, that would do it.”
“Good. We got pancakes up in ten!”
“March!” comes his mother’s aggravated voice. “Leave them alone.”
“I left them alone all morning!”
August groans and flops back on the bed. “It’s eight thirty, asshole!” he yells to the celling.
“Language, August,” his mom calls back, her voice muted by distance.
I bite my lip and fight a laugh. “Do you think they heard?”
“No,” August says empathically, and reaches for me again.
“Yes,” March says, clearly against the door.
Embarrassment bursts hotly over my body and I duck beneath the covers, as August wings a pillow at the door and tells his brother to get lost. March leaves with gleeful chuckles.
“He’s just messing with us,” August says.
