His chest heaves with each breath, and I can see the sheen of sweat on his skin even in the dim light.
"Get on top of me," he orders, and the authority in his voice makes my thighs clench, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through me.
I move quickly, straddling him, and he grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough that I know I'll have bruises tomorrow.
The thought makes me even wetter.
He positions me over him, and I can feel the head of him pressing against my entrance, hot and insistent.
I sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch, and the stretch, the fullness, makes me gasp. He's so thick that it borders on toomuch, my body having to adjust to accommodate him. I pause halfway, breathing hard, and he makes an impatient sound.
"All of it," he growls. "Take all of me."
I do, sinking down until he's fully seated inside me, until I'm so full I can barely breathe. We both groan at the sensation, and for a moment we just stay like that, connected, adjusting to the feel of each other.
"Fuck," he breathes, his hands gripping my hips so hard I can feel each individual finger. "You feel so good. So fucking tight."
I start to move, rolling my hips slowly at first, finding a rhythm that makes us both moan.
His hands roam over my body—sliding up my sides, cupping my breasts through my shirt, squeezing, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they're hard and aching. The fabric between his hands and my skin is almost unbearable, and I pull my clothing off in one quick movement, baring myself to him.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathes, and before I can respond, his mouth is on my breast, sucking my nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, and I cry out, my hips moving faster.
His hands slide down to my hips, my ass, guiding my movements, urging me faster, harder. I brace my hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscle, the coarse hair, the rapid beat of his heart, and I ride him hard, chasing the pleasure that's building with every movement.
The drag of him inside me, the way he fills me so completely, the friction against my clit with every roll of my hips—it's overwhelming in the best way.
"That's it," he says, his voice rough and commanding. "Take what you need. Fuck yourself on my cock."
The words send a jolt of heat through me, and I move faster, harder, my thighs burning with the effort but not caring.
My hands brace on his chest, and I can feel the slick slide of sweat between us, can hear the wet sounds of our bodies moving together, can smell sex and sweat and desire in the air.
I'm close, so close, the pleasure building to a peak, but then he grabs me, his hands firm on my waist, and suddenly I'm on my back and he's on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress.
The position change drives him even deeper, and I cry out at the sensation.
He hooks my legs around his waist, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs, and drives into me, hard and fast. The headboard starts to hit the wall with each thrust, a rhythmic thudding that matches the pounding of my heart.
I can barely think, barely breathe. I just feel every thrust, every groan, every inch of him filling me completely, stretching me, claiming me.
"Joseph—oh God—"
He leans down, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing my moans. I taste desperation and need and something deeper, something that makes my chest ache even as my body burns.
His tongue dominates mine, and I give in completely, letting him take control.
Sweat drips from his forehead onto my skin, hot and salty, and I can feel every muscle in his body working, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.
His hips snap against mine with bruising force, and I love it, love the way he's losing control, the way he's claiming me so thoroughly.
Then he pulls out, and before I can protest, he's dragging me to the edge of the bed.
My legs dangle over the side, and he stands, pulling me with him so my ass is right at the edge of the mattress. He positions himself between my legs again, his hands gripping my hips, and when he enters me this time, it's deeper, harder, the angle completely different.
I scream his name, my hands clutching at the sheets, and he starts to move, pounding into me with a ferocity that takes my breath away.
My eyes have adjusted to the dark now, and I can see him. His face twisted in pleasure, his jaw clenched, his muscles flexing with every thrust, the way his abs tighten, the way his shoulders and arms bunch as he holds me in place.
