I don’t fucking hesitate.
I rise to my knees, shifting my hips, and guide him into me.Inch by inch, he fills me, stretches me, and I swear I see stars.He grabs my hips, fingers digging in hard, his mouth parted, his eyes blazing with something dark and desperate.
“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked, head falling forward until his nose drags along the column of my throat.“You feel so fucking good.So fucking tight.”
As I grind down on his cock, sensation hits me like a goddamn freight train.Every roll of my hips sends a shockwave through my body, that tight pull deep inside winding higher, hotter, meaner.I’m drunk on the feel of him, on the filthy, breathless sounds spilling from his mouth.That low grunt when I squeeze around him.The curse he hisses when I do it again.
He grips my hand, rough and possessive, fingers locking with mine as he uses it to steady me.Holds me there like he wants to burn this moment into memory.His stare pins me in place, dark, wild, and wrecked, and I fucking love it.I move faster, chasing that raw friction that makes my thighs shake and my pussy clench.
And then I find it.That spot.The one that makes me forget my name.The one that turns me into a fucking sinner.
I ride him harder, each thrust making me unravel.My moans turn into gasps, into broken cries, into a string of “yes, fuck, yes.”Heat coils in my belly, tighter than before, until it snaps and I come hard.My orgasm rips through me, blinding and brutal, and I scream his name like a prayer I’ll never take back.
I’m gone.Fucked out.Floating in it.
And I don’t even want to come down.
With a rough grunt, he yanks tighter on my hair, hips jerking as his orgasm tears through him.Bliss shatters across his face, his mouth falling open as a deep, guttural sound claws its way out of his throat.His lips crash into mine, and I swallow the growl he spills straight into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he rasps, voice torn raw.
I slow my hips, still keeping him inside me, but the pace shifts.He looks at me, and I see his face change.That tight, desperate edge softens into something vulnerable.
“You’re not gonna leave me this time, Red, are you?”
My heart clenches so tightly it hurts.I blink.
“No.”
He exhales and presses his forehead against mine.
“Good.”He closes his eyes, just for a second.“Fuck!”His eyes snap open, full of panic.
“What?”I freeze.
“We never used a condom.”
The room stills.My pulse pounds in my ears.But his arms remain around me.
In the heat of the moment, I didn’t think twice.My body made the decision—desperate, frantic, starving.I was too caught up in the way he kissed me, in how good his hard cock felt in my hand to even realize we’d gone there.No condom.Just skin, sweat, and the kind of hunger that made me forget every rational thought I ever had.
I exhale, slow and shaky, his cock still inside me, the aftermath of my orgasm still ricocheting through my limbs.
“Fuck,” he mutters, forehead resting against my shoulder.“We didn’t use anything.”
“I’m on birth control,” I add.
My dad made my mom take me when I was fifteen.Said some teenage boy at school was looking at me with a hard-on and called it insurance.
Reece pulls back and looks at me.He smiles in relief, but it fades when I say the next part.
“But maybe we shouldn’t have done it.You know, with everything.”I don’t know how the hell to say this part, but it needs to be said.“All the girls you’ve…” I trail off, staring at his face, our bodies still joined.
“Red…” he says, lifting his hand and brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek.“I’ve never been with anyone bare before.You’re the first.”
A rush of something stupid, ridiculous, and soft tears through my chest.I hate how much it matters to me.I hate that I smile.That some fucked-up part of me feels special for being the only one who’s felt him like this.
God, I really need therapy.
