I thrust up into him and his whole body shuddered. The angle was brutal like this, every stroke drove deep, hit that spot inside him that made him cry out. His thighs trembled against my hips, his arms locked around my neck, and he was so tight around me I could barely think.
“So good,” I managed. “You take me so fucking well.”
“Holden—” My name was a moan. “I can't—it's too much—”
“Yeah, you can.” I thrust harder, felt him clench around me. “Take it.”
His head dropped to my shoulder, face pressed against my neck, panting hot against my skin. I adjusted my grip, pulled him down onto me as I thrust up, and he sobbed.
“Please,” he gasped. “I need to come, I can't—please—”
“Touch yourself.”
“I'll fall—”
“You won't.”
He believed me. One arm stayed locked around my neck while his other hand moved between us, wrapping around his cock. I felt his arm working, felt the way his body tightened with every stroke, and kept fucking up into him, relentless.
“Close,” he said. “I'm so close, Holden, I need—”
I carried him to the bed.
Two steps and I was laying him down on his back, following him down without ever pulling out. His legs stayed wrapped around me, his hand still working his cock, and I braced myself over him with one hand fisted in the sheets beside his head.
“Want to see your face.” I thrust deep. “When you come.”
His eyes locked on mine. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, that hazel gone dark and desperate. I thrust again and his whole body arched off the mattress, his free hand clawing at my back.
“Holden.” My name in his mouth, broken. “I can't—I'm gonna—”
“Do it.” I thrust harder, faster, chasing my own orgasm.
He shattered.
His whole body went rigid, clamping down around me so tight I saw stars. His cock pulsed in his hand, spilling hot between us, and the sound he made was almost a sob, my name over and over while I worked him through it, fucking him through every wave.
I didn't last much longer. Three more thrusts and I was gone, burying myself deep, pleasure whiting out everything but the feel of his body beneath mine and the way he was still saying my name like it was the only word he knew.
We stayed like that for a long moment, catching our breath, hearts racing. His legs slowly uncurled from my waist. My arms trembled from holding myself up, from holding him up. The room was quiet except for the radiator clicking and, from somewhere beyond the closed door, the soft sound of dog nails on hardwood.
“Hey,” Jamie said. His voice was wrecked.
“Hey.”
“Happy Valentine's Day.” He traced a finger down my chest, his touch lazy and satisfied. “Also, holy shit.”
I huffed a laugh against his shoulder. “Good?”
“You held me up like I weighed nothing.” His eyes were bright, somewhere between awed and fucked-out. “In the middle of the room. While fucking me. And then carried me to bed without....”
He pulled me down for a kiss, soft and slow, tasting like sweat and satisfaction. “You're freakishly strong. And apparently determined to ruin me for anyone else.”
“That's the plan.”
His laugh was warm, satisfied. I rolled to the side, pulling him with me, and he settled against my chest like he'd always belonged there.
“Best Valentine's Day ever,” he murmured against my skin.
