“Darren!”
He spears me with two fingers, sending me over the edge and into bliss.
“Goddamn, that was beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers still working out of my wetness.“Such a pretty orgasm.”
My eyes open and I find him staring at me.His cock is massive and straining toward me, but he doesn’t move.My thighs tremble as I let them fall open even further.
“Please,” I beg and something inside him shifts.
“You never have to beg me,” he says lowly, rubbing the head of his shaft between my lips after removing his fingers.“But I can’t say I don’t like the sound.”
“Please, Darren,” I repeat, knowing he enjoys it.“Fuck me.”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat and slowly fills me with his thick inches.“Fuck.”I can see the strain on his face as he enters me.“So hot.So wet...”
“More...”He thrusts the last few inches in harshly and my back bows.“Yes...”I hiss in pleasure.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he says, rising up over me.
His big hands press my thighs down on the bed and he watches as his cock disappears into me again and again.I have never seen a man so enraptured by anything, much less me.
His thumb finds my clit and rubs small, tight circles.“I need you to come for me, Olivia.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant on repeat as my second orgasm barrels down on me, my walls fluttering around his length.
“Now, Olivia,” he demands and my breath stalls as pleasure overwhelms me.
His thrusts lose their tempo and a moment later I feel his length kick inside me.
“Oh, my God,” I mewl, another small orgasm ripping through me.Why is the thought of his cum inside me so hot?
He kisses and touches everywhere, whispering words of praise that sink into my skin and my soul.Slowly, he rolls away from me but keeps me locked in his arms and his semi hard erection inside my sex.
We don’t scramble away or apologize or build distance like a wall.We just stay, wrapped up in each other.His body is heavy under mine, his hands firm against my spine, pulling me against his chest like I’m something he plans on keeping.
My brain, the fucking traitor, waits for disgust.For the flinch.For the “we should work on that.”But none comes.
He kisses my forehead instead.“Are you okay?”
I nod, my throat tight in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with safety.
“Yeah,” I whisper.“I’m ...here.”
His arms tighten, like that’s the exact answer he wanted.
“Good,” he murmurs, already half-asleep, content and smug and mine.“Stay.”
I do.For the first time in years, I fall asleep next to someone without curling myself small to take up less space.I sprawl.I breathe.
And I dream of nothing burning.
