As if he’s saying—It’s the truth. You know it, too.
And his heavy finger stays on my clit, unlocking me, a rhythm so steady, so fucking cruel, heat licks up my spine, blows smoke into my stomach.
I squeeze my eyes shut,
and his lips move behind my ear.
Kissing. Breathing.Fuck.
His middle finger glides lower,
through the heat-soaked flesh,
trailing down to my opening,
where I never let anyone.
And I should stop him.
But then he pauses, pressing the pad of his finger against my soaked entrance.
And his entire body shudders.
His muscles pulse.
His breathing falls heavier.
He circles the rim soft.
My hips bury deeper into his, craving him.
So he pushes in
a single finger,
one slow, dizzying inch at a time.
His breath goes ragged,
then cuts out altogether.
A low groan rumbles in his chest,
his hips nailing into me,
cock hard and jerking against my ass.
The rest of his muscles tense with mine.
Two bodies, bound tight.
“Jesus Christ…” he whispers.
I take his finger deeper, squeezing tightly around him,
wanting him to feel me, wanting him to feel everything.
His finger pushes in all the way.
