“Now, Milo,” I whimpered, rocking against him.
He positioned himself, and I felt the press of him.
Milo paused, his body nearly shaking with need.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “We’re okay.”
With a pained sound, his face pressed to the side of mine.
Then he was gliding inside—one slow, deep thrust that had us both groaning.
It was all sensation then.
His tightening grip on my hips.
His warm breath on my neck.
The slow, deliberate movement inside me.
My whole body was trembling so hard that Milo needed to wrap an arm around me, pull me tighter against his chest.
His other hand slid between my thighs, increasing the pleasure.
Little by little, the movement lost rhythm, dissolving into urgency as we both got closer and closer.
Release claimed me without warning, without mercy, without escape. And I gave into it helplessly, crying out, clinging, trembling.
Milo groaned at the frantic tightening around him, pressing deep, his whole body tightening, then pulsing in me as he came.
He collapsed backward on the edge of the bed, taking me with him on his lap, both of us just holding onto each other for a long time.
He was still inside me, and I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the intimacy.
I just needed one more minute.
Then another.
And another.
I gripped him when he tried to move.
“Shh,” he murmured, his lips pressing into the spot where my neck met my shoulder. “You can have me just like this anytime you want. You can let go.”
My body relaxed, and Milo gently moved with me onto the bed, our bodies curled tightly.
His hands roamed.
Not to excite.
To calm, to reassure.
“Baby.”
“Hmm?” I asked, floating in that space between sleep and consciousness, deliciously floating and satisfied.
“I have another plan,” he said.
“Yeah?” I asked, my eyes fluttering open. “What is it?”
