"What purpose is that?"
"That's what I plan to show you."
We're naked fast, on the bed even faster, and a few minutes later I have my fingers inside him, drenched in lube, and cursing my own impatience. I need to slow down, need to let him feel comfortable?—
"I'm ready," he says, echoing my own frustration. "Please, Raffi, that's enough."
"It's not enough."
He grabs my face and makes me look at him. "I want to feel it.Reallyfeel it."
"I don't want to hurt you," I growl, twisting my fingers inside him as though to emphasize the point.
"Then go slow on the way in," he says. "And let me feel every inch of you. You're the one who always wants me to ask for what I want," he adds stubbornly. "That's what I want. You, inside me, now."
Ah, fuck.
Who am I to deny him?
Darian, on his back, watches with his lips parted and pupils blown wide as I slick myself up and shuffle forward between his bent knees until the crown of my cock nudges against his rim.
"You make sure it's not too much for you, sweets," I warn, voice low and rough as I hold his heated gaze.
He answers by hooking one long leg over my shoulder, opening himself up completely to me. A broken whine spills from his lips as I slowly, inexorably push forward until I breach him, and then his ring clenches tight under my cockhead.
I pause for a beat, my forehead pressed to Darian's as we pant together. I wait for his trembling body to relax around the intrusion. Only then do I start to move, torturously slow, setting a leisurely pace, thrusting into his channel with longer strokes as he starts to open up.
Every velvet inch that I take feels like a gift; every sound from his lips and the way his body melts around me makes my heart race. I breathe in deeply, savoring the sweet scent of his skin mixed with sweat and lube. I shift my hips, adjusting to the tight grip he has on me, and move even slower than before as he continues to pant and whine beneath me. His muscles clench so around my cock I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning too loud at the sensation.
It'd only encourage him to do it again, and this is too good to rush.
"You feel so fucking good," I whisper against his neck, kissing and nipping at the soft skin.
"Y-yesss," he hisses out, fingers digging into my shoulders as he tries to pull me closer, or push himself farther onto my cock with a needy whimper. I move with him, matching his rhythm as best as I can while still maintaining that slow pace. The slap of skin on skin, our heavy breathing, that's all I hear as I take him. Darian's grip on my back tightens as he arches upward. His eyes lock onto mine, a mix of desperation, need, and something else…
"I love you," he says.
"Love you, too." I retreat from his body until just the head of my cock remains inside him and then force myself to hold still, watching the storm of emotions flicker across his face.
I lean down and press a soft kiss to his panting lips as I push back in again, filling him up once more, his hot, slick walls gripping me tight. I brace myself on my arms and begin to move faster at last, my self-control breaking as his hips jerk upward. I know what he's trying for, so I change up the angle, find it when his eyes roll back and he chokes out a plea—yes, there, right there—and I make sure I do again and again and again for him.
It's too much for him in the end. His eyes go wide and he stares right into my face as he comes, almost as though he's astonished at what his body is doing. I feel him flood my belly, the hot scent of his cum filling the air, and I'm done for. I fuck hard and fast into him until I shoot, grimacing at the exquisite pleasure-pain of my orgasm. I try not to collapse onto Darian, keeping myself propped up a little on my arms.
"That right there," I pant out. "That's my purpose in life, I decided."
He looks into my face and a second later, we're laughing together. Laughing like nothing else matters—because it doesn't.
Just this. Justhim.
CHAPTER 53
RAFFI
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER
The rich aromaof coffee filters through the air as I stir awake. My arm instinctively stretches across the tousled sheets, reaching for Darian. But my fingers only meet cool cotton where he should be.
I crack one eye open, peering around the bedroom we now share in his suite. Our suite, I guess. And sure enough, Darian's side is empty, the indent in the pillow the only proof he slept beside me.
