The heels dig into the mattress, lace clinging wet against him, chest rising in shaky little breaths that stutter every time I move my hands. His fingers are clutching the sheets, knuckles pale, eyes blown wide.
I swear, he’s never looked more wrecked. Or more in control of me. I kiss along the edge of his waistband, feel the way he trembles beneath my mouth. “Noah.”
“Yeah?” he moans, arching up into my kisses.
I crawl up the bed slowly, straddling his waist, hands braced on either side of his ribs. I lean in, nose brushing his, and say it like a secret: “I want you to fuck me.”
He goes so still beneath me that it takes him a full beat to respond. “W-what?” His lashes flutter. “But—I don’t know how—”
“Exactly,” I murmur. “That’s why I want it. I want your first time to be something you get to do, not something done to you. I want you to feel powerful in this. You’ve always given up control, but now I want you to take it.”
He stares at me, stunned. And then his face crumples just a little, like he doesn’t know if this is a trick. “I won’t hurt you?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “No, you won’t,” I promise, brushing my lips against his. “I’ll talk you through it and stop you if I need to. But right now, I just want you inside me. All of you.”
He flushes, visibly flustered. “What if I do it wrong?”
“Then I’ll tell you,” I murmur, brushing my nose against his. “Or I’ll moan so loud the whole house hears how fucking right it is.”
Noah’s breath hitches, and his blush deepens. “That’s not fair.”
“You in heels isn’t fair, Blue,” I whisper. “You’ve had me on my fucking knees since I was sixteen years old. Let me give this to you. Let me be the one to come apart.”
He stills under me, hands shaking slightly as they lift to settle on my hips. He looks terrified, turned on, and overwhelmed. “Okay,” he whispers. “But you’ll have to… you’ll have to tell me what to do.”
“I’ll do more than that,” I promise, kissing him again. “I’ll feel every second of it.”
I lean over, pulling open the drawer beside my bed and taking out a bottle of lube. When I turn back, he’s flushed from his neck down to the edge of the jock, lips bitten red, hands trembling where they rest at his sides.
He’s never looked more like mine.
I press the bottle into his hand and kiss his cheek. “Get your fingers slick for me.”
His eyes widen again. “You want me to—?”
“Prep me. I want you to open me up, Babygirl,” I say and watch his fingers clench around the lube. “Start slow. I’ll tell you what feels good. You okay?”
He nods, then nods again like he needs to double down. “Yeah. Just…nervous.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek again. “That’s okay. I trust you.”
That seems to settle him more. He watches me closely as I slip the towel from my waist, roll onto my back, and spread my legsfor him. “Come here,” I murmur, and he slips in between my thighs, hesitating a little. “You’re allowed to touch me, Noah.”
He lets out a shaky breath and uncaps the bottle with unsteady fingers. I watch his brows furrow as he coats his fingers in the slick, then looks back at me, one hand braced on my thigh while the other moves between my legs.
His touch is tentative, careful, and so fucking sweet it almost makes me ache. When his fingertip brushes against my taint, I suck in a breath, thighs tensing.
“Too much?” he asks immediately, voice wrecked.
“Not enough,” I rasp. “Press in slowly. You’re doing good. Go deeper.”
The praise makes his cheeks go scarlet, but he moves with more confidence now, working his finger in and out, slow and deep, until I’m panting.
“Wow,” he says, mismatched eyes wide. “You’re sucking me in.”
Jesus.
“Another,” I whisper, gripping the sheets. “Add another finger.”
