Her hands fisted in my hair, pulling me closer. "Please ..."
That word again. I gave in, sucking her clit gently into my mouth, my tongue working it in circles. She moaned louder, her body arching off the sofa. I slid one finger inside her—tight, so fucking tight—and curled it, searching for that spot.
Found it.
She gasped, her walls clenching around me. I added a second finger, pumping slowly while my mouth worked her clit harder, faster.
"Micah—oh, God?—"
She came undone under me, her body shaking, thighs clamping around my head as she cried out. I didn't stop, drawing it out, licking her through the aftershocks until she was limp and breathless.
When I pulled back, her eyes were glazed, cheeks flushed. "That was ..."
I kissed her inner thigh. "Just the start."
She reached for me, pulling me up. Her hands fumbled with my shirt, tugging it over my head. I let her, watching as her gaze roamed over my chest, my scars, the ink that told stories I wasn't ready to share.
"You're beautiful," she whispered, tracing a tattoo on my shoulder.
I almost laughed. Beautiful wasn't a word for men like me. But the way she said it—like she meant it—made something twist in my chest.
She unbuckled my belt next, her fingers trembling but determined. I helped her, shoving my jeans and boxers down, kicking them off. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, and her eyes widened.
"Oh," she breathed.
I cupped her face. "We can stop."
"No." She shook her head, her hand wrapping around me tentatively. I groaned at the touch—soft, curious. She stroked once, experimental, and I fought the urge to thrust into her grip.
"Like this?" she asked.
"Fuck—yes."
She grew bolder, her hand moving faster, thumb brushing over the tip where pre-come beaded. I kissed her hard, walkingus backward toward the bedroom without breaking contact. We stumbled through the door, her back hitting the mattress as I followed her down.
I settled between her thighs, my cock pressing against her entrance but not entering. Not yet. I rocked against her, sliding through her wetness, the friction making us both groan.
She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me closer. "Please, Micah. I need you."
Those words. From her. They broke the last of my restraint.
I positioned myself, the head of my cock nudging her entrance. She was so wet, so ready, but tight—God, so tight.
"Slow," I murmured, more to myself than her.
I pushed in an inch, watching her face. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering closed.
"Look at me," I said.
She did. Our gazes locked as I sank deeper, inch by inch, her body stretching around me. It was agony—sweet, torturous agony—not to thrust hard and bury myself to the hilt.
Halfway in, she winced.
I froze. "Hurt?"
"A little," she admitted. "But don't stop."
I kissed her, deep and slow, my hand sliding between us to circle her clit. She relaxed under me, moaning into my mouth. I pushed further, feeling her open for me, until I was fully seated inside her.
