I slide farther down the chaise until I’m completely reclined, and open myself to him. He kisses the sensitive skin on my neck as he uses his fingers to prepare me. Even those are big, and I worry for a minute that he’s going to wreck me.
Then he slowly enters me, inch by inch. I gasp at the feeling—not just his length but his girth. I’ve never felt so full in my entire life. He’s hitting nerves inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. I take a breath and relax as much as I can, determined to take every inch of him.
“You feel so fucking good,” he hisses as he buries himself fully inside me. “Your perfect pussy is so tight.”
Stars are already exploding in front of my eyes and he hasn’t even moved yet.
“Are you okay?” he asks gently, and all I can do is nod.
Slowly, he starts thrusting, easing out and back in. But I realize it’s not enough. It feels good, but I need more.
“Faster,” I manage. “And harder.”
He groans at my words and does exactly as I ask, setting a punishing rhythm that our bodies fall into easily. I let go completely, turning to putty in his hands. An orgasm rips through me before I even realize it’s started to build. His seems to strike just as suddenly, and he has to lurch forward to grab the back of the chaise as he screams out his own pleasure and spills deep inside me.
5
SAMUIL
She’s so incredibly beautiful that it’s hard for me to take my eyes off her. It’s not the manufactured, polished beauty I’ve gotten used to from so many other women over the years. She’s real in a way I haven’t experienced in ages. Everything about her feels unguarded and genuine. She’s unscripted, honest, and soft in a way I’m not used to. And I don’t know how to touch her without worrying I’ll ruin it.
After we both ride out our orgasms, she falls asleep on my chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t hesitate, and she’s not afraid of me. She trusts me so completely, even though she knows nothing about me. Her cheek is warm against my shoulder, her breath soft and steady, her fingers curled loosely against my ribs where she held on when her body shook around me.
I don’t move for a long time. I don’t want to disturb her. I’m surprised by how much I like the feel of her against me. She feels small and soft, something fragile I somehow earned without deserving it. The city lights cast faint gold across her skin, illuminating the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her hair is still damp from the bath, the ends brushing my arm in feathery strokes that make my pulse tighten every time she exhales.
I’m hard again almost immediately.
It’s embarrassing how little control I have with her. I’ve never been like this with anyone else. Sex has always been transactional, a way for me to drown the noise in my head for a few minutes. This is something else entirely. It wakes up parts of me I didn’t know existed. She makes me feel hunger and possession and tenderness.
She shifts slightly in her sleep, her thigh brushing mine, and a low sound escapes me before I can stop it. I clamp my jaw shut. I tell myself to let her sleep, to give her space, to show more self-control than a fucking teenager.
Until she sighs my name under her breath, in a soft, breathless, dreamy voice. Something in me snaps. I slide my hand slowly along her back, skimming the soft fabric of the robe she still hasn’t fully retied after I pulled it off her earlier. My fingers slip beneath it, finding warm skin. Her muscles twitch faintly. She stirs, eyelids fluttering.
“Wake up, gorgeous,” I murmur, low in her ear.
She mumbles something, turns her face slightly toward me, still half asleep. I brush my thumb along her hip, slow and light. Her breath catches, and her eyes flutter open, sleepy and unfocused. When she moves and feels my hard length pressed against her, my thumb on her hip, it seems to jolt straight through her. The sleepiness is replaced by something hotter and hungrier.
“What time is it?” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
“Late,” I say. “Or early.”
She blinks, realizes she’s lying on top of me, and her cheeks flush a warm pink. Her thigh shifts against me again, and this time there is no mistaking what she feels pressed against her.
She looks up at me. The smallest, shyest smile touches the corner of her mouth.
“Ready for round two?” she asks, cocking an eyebrow.
A low sound rumbles from my throat. “I’m ready to go all night.”
Her hand slides slowly down my torso, fingers tracing the lines of muscle. She touches me, and my eyes shut briefly as my breath leaves me in a sharp exhale. When I open my eyes, she’s watching me with that same wonder she had in the alley, when she took my hand without fear.
“Well, Samuil,” she purrs. “No need to ask what your weakness is.”
I don’t answer her with words. I cup the back of her head and pull her mouth down to mine.
The kiss is slow at first, warm, deep, and sensual. It threatens to hollow me out from the inside. She shifts onto her knees, straddling me, her robe falling open around her to perfectly frame her bare skin. Her breasts brush my chest, and the soft sound she makes sends a shock straight through me.
I grip her hips, thumbs stroking circles along her sides, guiding her as she lowers herself against me. She gasps when she feels me hard between her legs, causing her thighs to tighten. Her breath hitches. She looks down at me like she’s both satisfied and overwhelmed by the feel of me.
