His breath stutters.
“Tell me if you’re sore,” he says, pulling back enough to search my face.
I nod. “A little.”
His eyes darken. “Then we’ll take it slower.”
He helps me out of my shirt and panties, his touch feather-light, lips following. He kisses each breast, slower this time, mouth worshipful, tongue teasing just enough to make me whimper.
My legs part for him instinctively.
“I want to taste you again,” he says, voice hoarse.
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
He disappears between my thighs like it’s his favorite place on earth, and this time, I’m ready for it.
He licks and sucks with slow precision, like he’s savoring every sound I make. His fingers tease, but he doesn’t enter me, just strokes along my folds until I’m trembling again.
When I come, it’s softer than last night. Slower. But deeper somehow. My body arches, thighs clenching around his shoulders, breath catching in my throat.
He kisses up my stomach after, hand sliding up my side, and meets my mouth again like he’s starving.
“I want to be inside you again,” he rasps. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He rolls me onto my back, pushes his briefs down. Then he settles between my thighs, takes his cock in hand, and eases inside me with exquisite care.
It still stretches. Still burns just a little.
But this time, I’m ready.
And when he’s fully seated inside me, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. We move slowly together, a lazy rhythm, all heat and pressure and connection.
His forehead rests against mine. Our breaths sync. Our bodies glide together like we’ve done this a thousand times, not just once.
He kisses me through it.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, voice thick with need. “This is how I picture heaven.”
The words hit me harder than they should. My chest aches in that way it does when you want something too much—when you’re afraid to believe it could be real.
Then his voice roughens. “Don’t leave.”
I still, just for a moment. My heart slams against my ribs.
“Stay here with me,” he says, slow thrusts keeping time with every word. “Not just this weekend. I want all of it. Waking up to you. Cooking for you. Taking care of you. I’ve never wanted anything like I want you.”
His hand finds my cheek, rough and gentle at once. His eyes burn into mine. “Say you’ll stay.”
“I want to,” I whisper, my voice barely there.
“Say you’re mine. Forever.”
It should scare me. It should feel too soon.
