I climbed onto the bed. Straddled his hips, feeling him hard beneath his jeans. The power shift was immediate—me on top, looking down, deciding what happened next.
“Take your shirt off,” I said.
He sat up just enough to pull it over his head, then lay back down. His chest was nice—defined, a tattoo I’d never seen curving along his ribs. I ran my hands over his skin and felt his muscles jump under my touch.
“Your hands,” I said. “Above your head. Keep them there.”
He raised his arms without question. I leaned forward and pinned his wrists to the pillow, my fingers wrapping around them tight.
For a second, I just held him there. Looking down at this man who could easily flip me over, who could easily take whatever he wanted, but was choosing to let me have control.
I kissed him. Deep and dirty, my body pressed against his chest, my hips starting to roll against the hardness trapped beneath me.
He groaned into my mouth. I swallowed the sound and wanted more.
“Mehar—”
“Shh.” I kissed down his neck, scraped my teeth against his pulse, felt him shudder underneath me. “I got you.”
His words. Back at him. The reversal sent electricity down my spine.
I let go of his wrists long enough to undo his jeans, to free him. He was hard and thick and when I wrapped my hand around him, his hips jerked up before he could stop himself.
“Shit— sorry?—”
“Don’t apologize.” I stroked him slow, watching his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut, the way his jaw went tight. “Just feel it.”
I rose up on my knees. Positioned him at my entrance. Felt all that heat and pressure waiting.
“Eyes on me,” I said.
He opened them. That dark gaze locked onto mine as I sank down onto him. Inch by inch. Taking him in. Taking my time.
We both moaned.
He felt so GOOD inside me—filling me up, stretching me out, hitting spots that made my thighs shake. But more than how it felt physically, it was the POWER that had me dizzy.
I was choosing this. Every movement, every angle, every second of pleasure—mine. All mine.
His hands twitched at his sides.
“Uh uh. Keep them up.”
He put them back above his head, gripping the pillow like his life depended on it.
I started to move. Rolling my hips slow at first, finding my rhythm, the angle that worked best. He was breathing hard beneath me, abs flexing, jaw clenched with the effort of staying still and letting me lead.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”
I planted my hands on his chest and rode him harder. Took what I wanted. Used his body for my pleasure and loved every single second.
This wasn’t anything like Ahmad. This was the opposite. This was me choosing. Me taking. Me in complete control.
The pressure built low in my belly, coiling tighter with every stroke. Thad was watching me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, his whole body straining with the need to grab my hips and flip me over and take charge. But he kept his hands where I put them.
“I’m close,” I gasped.
“Take it.” His voice was wrecked. Barely holding on. “Whatever you need, baby. Take it.”
