Beck lifts an eyebrow, but I just smile at him sweetly with my hand still extended. He hands over the package, and I place it on the bed beside me. I motion Beck to come closer. When he steps between my parted legs, I grab his hips and pull him in.
In this position, his erection is right in front of me. Rigid and flushed, veins tracing down the side. I look up at Beck, who stares back with an expression that’s impossibly tender. Without breaking that eye contact, I lower my head and take him into my mouth. First, I twirl my tongue over his tip, watching how his eyes slide closed with pleasure. He groans, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. I work myself deeper, bouncing, moving farther down with every bob of my head. Beck’s hands slide into my hair as I work him, not to force me or guide me, but just to hold on. I move faster until his breath becomes ragged and his hips tremble.
Finally, he gently stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
I open the condom package and roll it on, noting how he’s grown harder, thicker. Beck reaches down, strokes himself with the condom on, and the sight sends another rush of heat through me. I like it. Seeing him like this, undone enough to do that in front of me.
I think back to the bar, to how he admitted he touches himself while he thinks of me, and my stomach flips to know that even before tonight I was tied to his pleasure.
That realization only makes this more inevitable.
Beck helps me move back onto the bed, until I’m settled with my head on the pillow. He’s back between my legs but this time with his cock notched at my entrance. He reaches out and trails the back of his hand along my cheek, and I lean into it.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“We’ve waited long enough.” I grab his hips and urge him forward.
His tip slides into me, and then the rest of him follows slowly. He doesn’t rush, just eases in and lets my body adjust before pressing a little deeper. By the time he’s halfway there, my hips are moving too, lifting to meet his, drawing him in with each steady motion.
Beck gazes down at me, his lip caught between his teeth as everything between us speeds up. I meet his gaze, wanting him to see me, to know we’re falling together.
“I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, his voice thick. “You’re here. You’re real.” He traces my jaw, like he needs proof of me under his fingers.
“So are you,” I whisper back, my hands on him, pulling him closer, closer until our foreheads are pressed together, then our lips.
When he moves against me now, it’s fast and hard. Nearing the end, Beck unleashes, heat and weight and promise pressing me back. My body answers instantly, my heart thundering in my chest. He reaches between us to circle my clit gently, then with more pressure.
“Yes,” I murmur, my eyes drifting closed as everything else falls away. “Right there.”
He groans and kisses me, his hand still on me, his body still moving with mine. He picks up the pace, quicker and quicker, as the tension coils tight inside me. My hands grab at him, wrap around his back, holding him close.
Everything builds, higher, tighter, until I come undone, crying out his name.
Beck answers with a throaty groan as he follows right behind me, emptying into the condom.
He half collapses on me, then rolls off to lay at my side. For a few seconds, neither of us says anything. We’re both catching our breath, the room quiet except for the soft sound of it, inhale, exhale, slowly syncing back up.
Beck is the first to move. He takes off the condom and throws it away. Then he’s back, with a towel to clean us both up. Once that’s done, he reaches for me without hesitation, pulling me into his chest like it’s instinctive, like this is where I belong now that everything else has settled. His arm wraps around my shoulders, firm and sure, and I tuck myself against him easily, my cheek resting over his heart.
It’s still racing.
“Hey,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along my arm. Gentle. Careful. “You okay?”
I smile into his skin. “Totally okay.” Then I add, because it feels important, “Really. I’m…happy.”
He lets out a breath that sounds like relief, like he’d been holding it just in case. His grip tightens a fraction, protective without being possessive, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he admits. “Sometimes I convinced myself it was just habit. Or history. But it wasn’t.” He tips his forehead against my temple. “It was you. Always you.”
Something warm and tight settles in my chest.
“I was nervous,” he admits after a beat. “Not about wanting you. Just…about doing it right.”
I turn slightly in his arms, just enough to tuck my face into the hollow of his throat. “You did.”
His hand tightens a fraction. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “It felt like you.”
