We lose the last of our clothes, and bare to each other, we roll, we shift, we move, finding comfort in the familiar. But somewhere in the tangle of limbs, in the haze of searching hands and wet mouths, Sab pauses, staring down at me as his body stretches over mine, his weight balanced to avoid where I’m hurt, a fist rooted to the pillow by my head.
Breathing heavy, his cock so hot and hard against mine, Sab bores his dark gaze into me. “Tu as l’air tellement vulnérable, ce soir. What do you need?”
I know the answer, but the question still knocks the air from me. Eviscerates the power of speech as I absorb the tremor in his body.
The restraint.
I swallow, belatedly realising my leg is already hooked over his hip, giving me away long before I find my voice.
But still I say it. Because I know Sab needs to hear it. “I need all of you.”
That flush comes back again, creeping up Sab’s bare chest. His throat. But it isn’t shyness this time. It’s anticipation, and I feel the same heat to my goddamn core.
Sab opens a drawer in his bedside table and rummages around, digging out supplies from the very back.
I don’t pay much attention to the items he drops on the bed. I’m too lost in him. Couldn’t break his gaze if I tried.
Time seems to blur.
He takes me apart with pure instinct.
His fingers.
His teeth and tongue.
I didn’t teach him this. Somehow, he just knows—because somehow he knowsme—he sees me.
Because he was made for me.
Sab shifts over me again, aligning our bodies as I groan into his mouth, my shaking hands framing his face, and?—
Holy shite, for a fleeting second, my whole body is nothing but pain. Tearing agony. But that feeling, it’s mercifully brief,fast replaced by grounding pleasure that has my eyes fluttering shut with the force of it. With the sheer consuming pressure of having Sab inside me, compressing every nerve into overdrive.
I feel him trembling.
Force my eyes open. “It’s a lot, eh?”
For him. For me.
“More than a lot.” Sab presses his forehead to mine, flexing his hips with careful insistence, searching for rhythm, for synchronicity, tipping me into a slow motion spin I’m so unprepared for I almost fecking laugh. Why does everything about him and me feel so timeless and brand new all at once?
There’ll be time to think about that later. When Sab is done with me. When the tender, feral cadence he finds so naturally has chewed me up and spat me out.
I’ve had a lot of sex with a lot of people. But not like this.
Never like this.
Christ, it’s so good.
I’m still clutching Sab’s face.
I grip him tighter, arching my back to bring us ever closer, the wounds on my body so far from my mind it’s as if they never existed. “Don’t be too gentle with me. I like it hard.”
Sab snatches a breath, dark gaze flashing. He drives into me with measured force, the kind you don’t see coming, and I match him, the edge of reason a fecking dot to me right now, hooked on his strong body flexing and straining, the taut muscles of his back. The precision he nails me with as his gaze never leaves mine.
Then it does and I’m on my knees, chest flat to the bed, face buried in my folded arms.
Oblivion.
