“Okay?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.
She nods, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
Ripping open the foil packet feels like breaking a seal. Not just on the condom, but on this new, terrifying, exhilarating chapter. I roll it on, the latex cool against my overheated skin.
“Okay, big guy. Show me what the Kirkland Signature experience is all about.”
I laugh again, shaking my head. Only Jane.
Then I lean over her, bracing my weight on one forearm beside her head. My other hand slides down her body, over her ribs, her belly, lower.
She tenses slightly as my fingers brush the soft curls between her thighs. “Easy,” I murmur against her lips.
My fingers glide through her folds, finding her wet, slick, and incredibly hot. Ready. A soft gasp escapes her as my fingertips circle her clit again, feather-light.
“Oh—” Her hips lift off the mattress, seeking more pressure.
“That’s it,” I encourage, my voice rough with need. “You feel so good, Jane. So ready.” I slide a finger inside her, slowly, carefully.
She’s tight. Unbelievably tight. Her inner muscles clench around my finger, drawing a low groan from me.
“Okay?” I grit out.
Her head thrashes on the pillow. “More,” she breathes. “Please, West.”
I add a second finger, stretching her gently. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, fingers digging in. “Yes! Like that… Oh…”
“Yes! Oh, yes, right there!” Her eyes fly open, locking onto mine. They’re dark, glazed, completely lost in the sensation. “Don’t stop. Please.”
I don’t. I keep up the rhythm, my thumb circling her clit in time with the thrust of my fingers. Her hips move withme, finding a rhythm, chasing her pleasure. Her gasps turn to whimpers, higher, more desperate. I can feel her body tightening, coiling, the tension building toward a breaking point.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss the frantic pulse at her throat. “Let go. Come for me again. I’ve got you.”
Her back arches sharply off the bed. A broken cry echoes in the quiet room as she shatters, her inner muscles clamping down hard on my fingers, her body trembling violently through the waves of her climax. I hold her through it, whispering praise against her skin.
“Beautiful. So beautiful, Jane. You’re doing so well. Perfect.”
I withdraw my fingers slowly, earning a soft whimper. My own need is a living thing, clawing at my insides. I’m aching, throbbing. But I wait. Letting her come down. Letting her body adjust.
She reaches down, her hand wrapping tentatively around my shaft—tentative, exploratory. She strokes once, experimentally, and I have to lock every muscle to keep from losing it.
"Like this?" she whispers.
"Any more 'like this' and this'll be over embarrassingly fast."
Her eyes light up. "Really?"
"Jane. You're holding my self-control by a thread."
She strokes again, deliberately. Testing her power.
I catch her wrist. "Menace."
“So… now?” she asks, her thumb brushing over the slick head.
“Now,” I confirm, my voice strained. I shift, positioning myself between her thighs. The head of my cock nudges against her entrance. She’s still slick from my fingers, but I know this will be tight. I meet her gaze, holding it. “Slow, remember? Deep breath.”
She nods, sucking in a shaky breath. I push forward, just the tip, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. Her brow furrows slightly. She bites her lower lip.
