I take him as deeply as I can, covering the rest of him with my hand as I work him toward a climax. He must be speechless, because the only noises he makes are pleasured gasps and moans.
I’m not sure which of us is enjoying this more. I’ve never found the joy of giving as much as I do right now, knowing that every lick and hum and suck is bringing him closer to the edge.
“Ana. Stop. I—” The words dissolve into a groan. He flips us in one fluid motion, gaze locked on mine, question clear without words.
Using his hand, he aligns himself at my entrance, then stills completely as his gaze connects with mine. My answering smile says everything.
Then he rocks into me as though he’s slowed time so he can savor every second of our merging. His muscled chest drags against my nipples as our gazes hold and he enters me in tiny pulses.
The first full thrust steals my breath. Every inch of him feels deliberate, reverent, like he’s learning me by heart.
It’s hard to get over a lifetime of trying to please, of only letting people see the tiniest sliver of who I really am. At this moment, not only am I giving him the gift of my body, but, perhaps more importantly, I’m allowing him to fully see me.
I let him see my awe as he surges deeper. Let him see my eyes flare wide at the stretch when he almost thrusts home. I let him hear my long, unrestrained moan of bliss when he bottoms out.
He pauses, and we gaze into each other’s eyes, exchanging some emotion deeper than sex, more than the physical, something soul deep.
Then I grip his hips, giving the wordless signal for him to let his body do what it’s made for. After dipping his head to kiss my lips with the sweetness of affection, he drops all his restraints and lets his feral impulses come to the fore.
He slides in and out once, twice, ensuring the path is slick and ready for the wild ride he wants to take me on, then he thrusts, pistoning into me in a relentless rhythm.
This is Nyxx! This is his gift to me. His passion. He’s holding nothing back—nor am I. He’s breathing hard, each ragged pant fanning over my face. His features are pulled into a grimace of pure bliss so profound his teeth are bared.
I meet him, movement for movement, until the rhythm takes over—nothing left but skin, sound, heartbeat. For once, I don’t hide or hold back. I let him see all of it.
My internal muscles grip him, loving every driving entry and exit. When he pulls all the way out of me and then rams back in, burying himself in one near-brutal thrust, I yelp in surprised pleasure. He pauses, perhaps to make sure I’m okay, so I have to reassure him with the only word pulsing through my mind.
“Harder!”
And he obliges. My body is on fire, melting, morphing, rearranging itself as every muscle, cell, and fiber prepares for the explosion that is eddying and swirling and pooling, getting ready for the grand finale.
He changes his angle, which somehow, shockingly doubles my ecstasy. My lids fly wide as I gasp, then match the rhythm of my hips with his.
“Almost—” he grits out.
I’m too lost in him to form words, too close to think. This isn’t arousal the way I used to know it—it’s something deeper, sharper, electric—and I haven’t even reached the edge yet.
He grunts with ecstasy, his face tightening in a beautiful grimace as he pulses inside me. I was so close; his release was all it took to force me over the edge.
Every muscle in my body spasms, tightening, as I pulse around his cock. My release isn’t tidy or polite. It rips through me, wild and perfect.
“Fuck!” Did that come out of my mouth?
My orgasm seems to go on forever as it waxes and wanes, almost petering out and then ramping up again. Finally, with a shaky breath, then a sigh, all my muscles go loose, and I collapse against the bed, eyes closed, unable to move.
Nyxx curls his big, beautiful body against me, wraps an arm around my waist and tucks me close. He’s the one who did all the work, so I don’t know where he finds the energy to kiss me everywhere—hairline, forehead, eyelids, cheeks, lips. He’s an equal-opportunity kisser.
The L word barrels into the forefront of my mind. It’s so insistent, I grit my teeth to keep it inside my mouth and not let it spill from my lips. It would be a rookie mistake to say it now, after we had sex for the first time—worse than a schoolgirl.
Instead, I give him the brightest smile and kiss him back.
“You are a special man, Nyxx Night. Is there anything you can’t do spectacularly well?”
Chapter Nineteen
Nyxx
Sunlight spills across the bed. Ana sleeps on, hair fanned like a halo. Last night replays in flashes—her sighs, her moans, the way she opened to me.
