I wrap my fingers around him first, feeling the heat of him pulse against my palm. He groans, hips jerking involuntarily, and the sound emboldens me. I lower my head, letting my breath ghost across the swollen tip, watching his stomach muscles clench in anticipation.
Then my lips close around him.
The taste of him floods my senses — salt and musk and something uniquely him. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, and the sound he makes is almost pained. His hand finds my hair, not pushing, just holding, fingers trembling against my scalp.
"Fuck, Riley," he gasps. "Your mouth... God damn..."
I hum around him, pleased by his reaction, and his whole body shudders. I work him slowly at first, learning what makes him groan, what makes his hips buck, what makes his grip tighten in my hair. The power of it is intoxicating — this strong, dangerous man coming apart beneath me, because of me.
But as I feel him throb against my tongue, as I hear his breathing grow more ragged, something shifts inside me. The ache between my thighs has become unbearable, a hollow need that demands to be filled. I'm so wet I can feel it on my inner thighs, slick and wanting.
I need more. I need him inside me.
I release him from my mouth with a wet pop, and he makes a sound of protest that cuts off when he sees me moving. Rising. Positioning myself above him.
"Riley, wait — " His voice is strained, hands finding my hips. "We should…"
"I want this, I want you," I breathe, and it's true, has been since I met him. "And I'm clean. Are you?"
"Yeah." The word comes out rough, desperate.
"Then shut up."
I sink down onto him.
The stretch is exquisite. He's big — bigger than I expected, even after having him in my mouth — and my body resists for a moment before yielding, opening around him inch by devastating inch. We both moan as I take him fully, my hips finally meeting his, every nerve ending in my body singing with the fullness of him.
For a moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe together, adjusting, feeling. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, and I don't care. I want his marks on me. Want evidence that this is real.
Then I move.
I roll my hips experimentally at first, finding the rhythm, finding the angle that makes sparks shoot throughout my body.
When I find it — god, when I find it — my head falls back and a moan tears from my throat.
"That's it," Breaker growls beneath me, his voice wrecked. "Take what you need."
So I do.
I ride him with everything I have, every fear and every want and every desperate, aching need I've been suppressing for months. Years. My thighs burn with the effort, sweat slicking my skin, but I don't stop. Can't stop. The pleasure builds with every roll of my hips, coiling tighter and tighter at my core.
His hands roam my body — my hips, my waist, my breasts. He palms them roughly, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and the dual sensation of him inside me and his hands on my skin is almost too much to bear. I cry out, the sound raw and unguarded, and I don't even recognize my voice anymore.
"You feel incredible," he groans, hips rising to meet mine, thrust for thrust. "So tight. So fucking perfect."
The words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through me. I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest, changing the angle so he hits that spot deep inside me with every stroke. My nails dig into the hard planes of his muscles, leaving crescent moons in their wake, and he hisses through his teeth — not in pain, but in pleasure so sharp it borders on agony.
Our rhythm becomes frantic and desperate. The slap of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by gasps and moans and the creak of the bed beneath us. I can feel another orgasm building, different from the first — deeper, more consuming, threatening to pull me under entirely.
"Riley," he gasps, and there's a warning in his voice now, a tension in every line of his body. His grip on my hips turns bruising. "I'm gonna — fuck, I'm close —"
"Shh."
I press my finger against his lips, silencing him. His eyes go wide, dark with need and surprise and something that looks almost like wonder. I hold his gaze as I ride him harder, faster, chasing my release even as I feel him tense beneath me.
"Come for me," I whisper against his mouth. "I want to feel it."
He breaks.
