“Oh.” The single syllable carried a world of discovery as she shifted, realizing she was now in control.
His thumbs traced slow circles on the crest of her hipbones, steadying her without guidance.
“Find your way,” he said softly, looking up at her perched above him, naked and flushed. “My body is yours.”
She rocked tentatively, testing the motion, and the subtle shift of her hips sent his cock sliding against her front wall in a way that made them both gasp. She rocked again, adjusting the angle, slowly discovering all the things her body could feel.
A moan spilled from her lips, throaty and devastatingly female. Her confidence grew, and she rolled her hips again.
Her fingers splayed across his scarred chest, palms planting in muscle. She used the leverage to lift herself before sinking down, taking him to the root.
The groan that escaped him was indecent, a guttural moan torn from behind his sternum, but her answering smile was radiant and wicked and entirely new.
“You liked that?” She bit her lower lip.
“I like everything you’re doing.”
“Me too.”
She found her rhythm. A slow, grinding roll that dragged the full length of his shaft through her gripping heat, her body pressing against his pelvis each time she bore down.
Her breasts swayed with every motion, lush and perfect, her sensitive nipples taut and flushed, still damp from his mouth. Her head tipped back, and her lips parted as pleasure climbed her spine in visible increments, tightening her stomach, curling her toes, drawing her shoulders taut.
He watched in awe. His love and admiration for her doubled with every thrust. Pressure that had nothing to do with his approaching release built behind his ribs.
Every point where her skin touched his sent warmth flooding through him. He felt her everywhere, even in the tissue of his torn flesh where he’d assumed sensation had permanently died.
When she met his gaze with him buried completely inside her, with her hips undulating in a rhythm that was entirely her own, she created an intimacy so acute it disarmed him.
No one had ever looked at him like that.
His hands moved from her hips to her waist, palms sliding up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She covered his hands with her own, pulling his touch where she needed it most, pressing his palms harder against her skin, as she increased her pace.
The slick, rhythmic sound of their joining filled the room alongside ragged breaths and muffled cries. She rode him with growing urgency, her thighs trembling, her inner walls clenching around his shaft in irregular, fluttering spasms that told him she was close.
He planted his feet flat on the mattress and thrust upward to meet her, driving deeper, hitting the spot that made her scream in ecstasy.
Her rhythm faltered as her body tightened around him in a spiraling grip that stole every remaining thought from his head. “Jack.” Her voice cracked between his name and another moan. “I love you.”
The words landed, solid and irreversible, forged to his heart with heat and conviction and the unmistakable timbre of truth.
He pulled her to him, wrapping her tightly in his arms, her chest flush against his, as their hips moved in frantic, graceless synchrony. His lips traced her lips, her eyes. He kissed every inch of her face as her heartbeat slammed against his, their pulses trading places in a rapid give and take.
“I love you.” He said it into her lips. It was more than a confession. It was a covenant, whispered between souls.
Her inner walls seized around him in a fist of liquid heat, so sudden and so fierce that the air punched from his lungs. Her spine arched off his chest, her nails biting crescents into his shoulders, and the sound that tore from her throat climbed the high ceilings and filled every corner of the room.
He gripped her hips as her thighs clamped around his. His arms slid up her back, holding her tight to him, as her body convulsed in rhythmic, clenching waves that rippled along his buried length.
His vision dissolved to white as he followed her over the edge, the wild percussion of her heart slamming against his own. His arms locked around her as his hips drove upward in three final, shuddering thrusts that buried him so deep he couldn’t tell where his body ended, and hers began.
Hot, pulsing waves fled his body, wringing sounds from his chest he didn’t recognize, guttural and broken and raw. He buried his face against her neck as his fingers knotted in her hair.
They stayed like that for an eternity, gasping each time the lingering pleasure spiked with another jolting little wave. Slowly, the tremors subsided, and his length softened still inside her.
His arms did not loosen, and her fingers never left his skin as she traced slowly over his raised flesh as if memorizing every hidden part of him. Their breathing slowed in tandem, ragged edges smoothing into something sustainable, something that could carry them through the next minute and the one after that and all the minutes that followed.
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, a content smile softening her face.
