“You’re so hot,” he says as his mouth moves over my shoulders and the back of my neck.
I don’t know what to say to that, so I rock against the mattress, groaning when his erection settles into my crease.
He grinds against me as he nips at my ear. “You want that?”
“Stop teasing,” I say.
“Uh-uh.” His teeth at my earlobe go from playful to painful before his tongue swirls around it, and I melt under him again. “My terms, remember?”
He flattens his palm on my ass, squeezing and exploring, while his hips continue to pump, long and slow thrusts that promise things I want so badly.
“Please.” The friction is dry and would be uncomfortable, but the more he rocks, the more I start to move with him, until we’re flowing together in a way that makes me think of his body, glistening with sweat as he moved through the poses in that yoga class.
“Yeah.” His voice is rough in my ear. “Yeah, there you go.” And the praise warms me unexpectedly.
He glides down, leaving me exposed, but his thumbs spread my cheeks apart, and I arch toward him, trying to find his touch.
“Shit, you really want this, don’t you?” he says.
I really do. More in this moment than when I walked in the door, or when I drove over to the address he had texted me, or when I replied to his message yesterday, hoping the whole time we corresponded that neither of my kids would ask me what I was doing. Right now, I need him so much I—
His tongue swipes over my hole, and the single wet caress is enough that I have to bury my face in the quilt on his bed. The second pass has my whole body going hot and my brain going white. With each lick, I get further and further away from reality, until the only thing I know is the dribble of spit from my ass to my balls. The room fills with a whining moan that I don’t immediately recognize as coming from my chest, but his breath on my slick skin cuts it off in a strangled mewl.
“So pretty.” He rubs his thumb over me and slips inside without much fuss.
“Please. Brady, please.” I’m wet and open, and I need him so badly.
“Soon.” He moves away, and I’m too edgy and already too blissed out to turn my head to see where he’s gone. But the slide of a drawer and the snick of a bottle cap are familiar, even though it’s been more than a year for me
His fingers are cool to start, and I shout at their first invasion, but within minutes the warm slick has me writhing. “Please, please, please,” I babble.
“Nash.” He kisses my shoulder. “You’re going to feel so good.”
Another pause. Another click of the bottle cap, along with the crinkle of foil. I wait, so heavy and aching I can barely keep my eyes open. I roll when he pulls me onto my side, letting him position me how he wants. All I need is to feel the stretch as he pushes into me.
He grimaces as he pulls the pillow I’ve been lying on out of the way. A wet spot has spread over the cover, where I’ve leaked pre-come throughout his careful attention.
“Gonna have to wash this,” he says absently, and if I were more with it, I’d complain that he’s clearly not into this as much as I am if he’s got the wherewithal to plan laundry. But before I can protest, he stretches himself alongside me. We’re spooning. Not my favourite position, but he lifts my top leg and presses into me, and I really don’t care what position we’re in as long as we’re finally fucking.
“You’re tight,” he says against my neck, and I’d protest, but the feeling of him, the burn and slow slide says he’s right.
He retreats, and I growl, reaching behind me to grip his hip.
“We’ve got time,” he says, but I’ve waited long enough. I rock against him, driving him in, gripping his hip so tight it might bruise, but I’m done waiting.
The room goes quiet, except for the both of us panting in unison.
“You okay?” he says, one hand roaming over my stomach.
I don’t want to talk anymore. Don’t want to wait. I rock my hips, fucking myself on his dick, searching for the feeling I had before, because what I feel now is new. Foreign. A body I don’t know, moving in ways that aren’t familiar. His thrusts are short, not nearly as deep as I like. Brady pressed against me is different, supporting me in ways I’m not used to, the angles hard and soft in places I have to learn for the first time, which is something I haven’t had to—
Fuck you, Dominic. I don’t want to be thinking about you right now.
“Fuck me,” I say through gritted teeth. “Please. Stop being nice and just fuck me.” I roll, and he protests, but he comes with me until I’m back to being face down on the bed. He slides out of me as we go, but I’m only empty for a minute before he’s lifting my hips, pulling me back on my knees, and driving into me in one long thrust that has me knuckling the sheets.
“Like that?” he says.
“Yes, fuck yes. Thank you.”
