"Wait," he grits out, catching my wrist. "If you keep doing that, this will be over too fast."
"I want it fast."
I release him and move up his body, kissing his stomach, his chest, his jaw. When I reach his mouth, he kisses me deeply, thoroughly, like he's trying to consume me.
"Condom," he mutters against my lips. "Drawer."
I reach over to the nightstand, fumbling until I find the box. My hands shake as I tear open the packet. He takes it from me gently.
"Let me."
I watch as he rolls it on, and then I'm straddling him again, positioning myself over him. Our eyes lock as I sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch. The stretch is exquisite, overwhelming, perfect.
When he's fully seated inside me, we both exhale shakily.
“So perfect,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I whimper.
"Move," he commands, his hands gripping my hips.
I do.
It starts tentative, small rocks of my hips testing the angle. But then I find a rhythm that makes us both gasp, and everything else falls away. His hands guide me, helping me take him deeper. I brace my hands on his chest and move faster, chasing thepleasure building in my core. There's only this: the slide of our bodies, the catch of his breath.
"That's it," he encourages, voice rough. "Take what you need."
I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, and ride him harder. The new angle sends sparks through my core, hitting something inside me that makes me cry out. My nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter.
"Right there," I gasp. "Don't stop."
I keep grinding my hips on his, but it’s not enough.
“Declan, I need more.”
He sits up, wrapping his arms around me. I adjust my legs, and the new position drives him impossibly deeper. I cry out.
"There," I gasp. "Right there."
I'm in his lap now, chest to chest, and he's controlling the rhythm, lifting me and pulling me down with strong hands.
“Like this?” he demands.
"Yes," I moan against his neck.
"I've got you. Let go."
He sets a punishing pace, each thrust precise and devastating, driving into me harder, faster. The room fills with the sound of our breathing, the slide of skin on skin, my breathy cries as pleasure coils tighter in my core.
"Touch yourself," he commands.
My hand slides between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and the combination of sensations sends me spiraling. The second orgasm hits like lightning, stealing my breath, my vision, everything but the sensation of falling apart in his arms. I shatter around him, waves of pleasure radiating through every nerve.
“Ivy,” he groans into my neck seconds later as he pulses inside me.
His whole body goes rigid before he collapses back against the pillows, taking me with him.
We lie there in the aftermath, hearts racing, limbs entangled. The afternoon light filters through the windows, painting everything gold. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
