"Now," I pleaded. "Please, now."
"Look at me," he said. "Stay with me."
Our eyes locked. Then he pushed inside.
We both groaned. He filled me completely, stretching me, the angle letting him sink deep. For a moment we just stayed like that, locked together, breathing hard.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first. Controlled. Those gray eyes locked on mine, not letting me look away, not letting me disappear into my head.Every thrust deliberate, measured, designed to make me feel every inch of him.
"You feel so good," he murmured against my neck. "So fucking perfect."
I wrapped my legs high around his waist, ankles locking behind his back, opening myself completely. The new angle made him go even deeper, and his control slipped.
"More," I breathed. "Harder."
He responded, his thrusts growing stronger, faster. The rug shifted beneath us. Firelight cast shadows across our sweat-slicked skin. Another orgasm was building, coiling tight in my core.
"You're so flexible," he groaned, adjusting the angle to go deeper. "How—"
"Gymnastics," I gasped out between thrusts. "When I was younger. Before I decided to focus on cooking."
"Fuck." He thrust harder. "That's hot."
He slowed down, making me whimper in frustration. Then he pulled out completely, leaving me empty and aching.
"What—"
"On your hands and knees," he commanded.
I scrambled to obey, bracing my hands on the rug. He positioned himself behind me, his large hands gripping my hips, dwarfing my waist.
"This okay?" he asked, his thumb tracing down my spine.
"Yes. God, yes."
He pushed inside from this new angle and we both groaned. The position let him go even deeper, hit different angles. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady.
Harder now. More primal.
"Touch yourself," he commanded. "I want to feel you come around my cock."
I slid one hand between my legs, circling my clit. The combination was overwhelming—him pounding into me from behind, my own fingers working, sweat dripping down my spine, my arms shaking.
"That's it," he groaned. "You're so tight. So perfect."
His rhythm was relentless. Both of us pushing hard, sweat and exertion and raw need.
Then I felt his thumb pressing against my ass.
"Gil—"
"Just a little," he murmured. "Trust me. Tell me to stop if you don't like it."
The pressure was strange, intense, making me hyperaware of how full I was. Then he pushed his thumb inside my tight hole while thrusting forward and stars exploded behind my eyes.
"Oh fuck," I gasped. "Oh my god—"
