When I can see again, he’s standing between my thighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His chin is wet. His eyes are black with want.
“Good?” he asks.
I grab his belt and yank him toward me.
“Inside me. Now.”
He laughs, breathless and strained. “Bossy.”
“Theo, I swear to god, if you don’t?—”
He kisses me, cutting off my threat. I taste myself on his tongue—sweet and musky—and it makes me moan into his mouth. My fingers fumble with his belt, his button, his zipper, and then I’m shoving his jeans down and wrapping my hand around his cock.
He hisses, hips jerking into my grip.
God, he’s big. Thick and hard and leaking at the tip, and at the base, his knot is already starting to swell. I stroke him once, twice, and he grabs my wrist to stop me.
“If you keep doing that, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
“Then get inside me.”
He lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. We’re both breathing hard, staring at each other.
“I love you,” he says.
The words hit me like a punch. “What?”
“I love you.” He pushes in, just the tip, and we both gasp. “I’ve loved you for ten years. I never stopped. I need you to know that before—” He pushes deeper and his voice breaks. “Before I lose the ability to form sentences.”
“Theo—”
“You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”
“I love you too.”
Now he’s the one who freezes. “What?”
“I love you.” I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I never stopped. Not for a single day.”
“Cara.”
He buries himself to the hilt in one hard thrust.
We both cry out. He’s so deep, stretching me so wide, his knot pressing against my entrance. I’ve never felt so full.
“Fuck.” His forehead drops to my shoulder, his whole body shaking. “You feel—god, you feel incredible. So tight. So slick. Squeezing me so fucking good.”
“Move.” I dig my nails into his back. “Theo, please. I need you to move.”
He does.
Long, deep strokes that have me gasping. He pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in, hitting that spot inside me that makes me see stars. Again. Again. The potting bench creaks beneath us.
“That’s it.” His voice is ragged. “Take my cock. Fuck, you take it so well. Like you were made for me.”
“I was.” I’m moaning with every thrust now. “Made for you. Made for this.”
“Mine.” He grips my hip with one hand, tilts my face up with the other so I have to look at him. “Say it.”
