My breath catches, because I can feel it.
I can feel exactly how close he is.
How easy it would be.
How all I’d have to do is sink down, just an inch, and he’d be inside me—finally, completely.
My core clenches at the thought, and he groans like he felt it.
“Princess… if you keep sitting on me like that… I swear to God…”
I lean in, lips brushing his jaw, my body pressing tighter against his cock.
“Then maybe,” I breathe, “you should stop talking and do something about it.”
He tears the condom open with his teeth, and before he can get his hand around it, I take it from him. His eyes go dark the second my fingers brush his.
I hold his gaze while I slowly roll it down his cock, and he bites his lip right before his eyes squeeze shut for a second.
“Are you—” he sucks in a breath and opens his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I breathe, before I lift myself just enough to line him up with my entrance, my hand guiding the thick head of his cock to my entrance.
His strong and steady fingers help me sink down.
The stretch hits me immediately—hot, sharp, overwhelming—and I stop halfway, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice strained.
“Yeah,” I gasp. “You're just…you're so big.”
A rough sound comes out of him; a half-groan, half-curse. “Take your time, Princess.” His thumbs stroke my hips, gentle and grounding. “You feel too fucking good to rush. Just like the skates, we’re a perfect fit.”
“You and your Cinderella complex,” I gasp, trying to stay coherent while my body adjusts around him. My head falls back against the steering wheel, needing something to anchor me.
He smirks up at me. “If the shoe fits…”
I jerk my head back to glare at him. “Oh my god—did you just—”
I laugh, but it breaks off into a gasp as I slide farther down, taking more of him, my body stretching to fit every impossible inch.
“—make a dad joke during sex?”
“Worth it to hear you laugh,” he says, and then he thrusts up just enough to make my breath catch. “Now let me make you scream instead.”
I can barely talk; I’m in sensory overload from him.
Only him.
Only this.
“Fuck,” he breathes. His hands slide lower, gripping my hips as he pulls me fully down onto him. “You feel incredible.”
“So do you,” I gasp. “I feel so full—”
I start to rock against him, finding an angle that has me crying out. His hands slide under my hoodie, pushing it up along with my sports bra until he can cup my breasts.
“That's it,” he groans. “Just like that. Tell me how it feels.”
