I feel it slicking us both as he draws out of me, then glides back in.
A shudder rinses through him.
His hand pushes up my neck to tighten on the curve of my jaw.
For a beat, he’s still.
He’s too buried in me, too pressed against me, and my feet dangle in the dark air, my knees bent too far back.
Something’s thudding against my skull from the inside, my brain knocking and knocking.
I squint against the distortion.
My hands reach out for him in the dark, to tap and tap, to communicate.
But I can only reach his forearm.
His fingers are still locked onto my jaw.
My hand is a flurry against his forearm.
And in answer, pressure comes from his thumb against my jaw. It digs, firm, into the edge of my chin, then slides up to my parted lips—
His thumb delves into my mouth.
A guttural sound catches in my throat, felt but not heard.
His hold on my jaw firms, his thumb hooking onto the bite of my lower teeth, like he’s locking me in place.
He thrusts.
My mouth is pried open in his grip.
His other hand comes smacking down on my hip, fingertips digging into my flesh, like if he can hold onto me, he can hold onto whatever scraps of self-control he’s scraping for.
He juts again.
I can only receive it.
Each thrust fills me too much.
Every swift, fluid fuck into me juts me back into spiralling dizziness.
I grunt against the intrusion of his thumb hooked onto my lower teeth.
Faintly, I’m aware of a dampness on my temple, trickling into my hair. I don’t know if it’s a tear or a bead of sweat.
I clasp onto him, both my hands tight on his tensing forearm. The veins and tendons flex under my grip, like his own body battles him—
And he loses.
His thrusts turn savage.
The strain of his cock slamming into me pulses against my walls, and I know he’s coming again.
He falls.
Thumb still slipped into my mouth, he softens, and his body should come smacking down on mine. But he bolsters his weight onto his forearm again, the shift wobbling the mattress—
