“I’m never gonna get tired of that,” he tells me, placing a kiss to my thigh, wiping his chin with one hand.
He climbs over me, crawls up to where I’m still tied up at the top of the bed, kisses my chest on the way, and finally removes my shirt all the way, returning the use of my limbs to me. My arms have gone numb, but I don’t wait. I swing them up and over his shoulders, bring him down and kiss the hell out of that talented mouth of his. Probe it with my tongue, stroke his own with mine. Love the way we taste together, the taste of the moans he gives me. I give him some of my own in return.
“I want you,” I tell him. He groans against my mouth, and I move down to kiss his neck, his chest. “Can I suck you off first?” I ask him.
He shakes his head, pulls away from me so he can see my eyes. “Fuck no,” he says softly. “I’m blowing inside of this thing.” His hand slides down my naked body, cups my pussy, lets his fingers slide around in all the moisture there, making my stomach dip, my hips buck, my core throb.
“Condoms’re in my bag, one sec,” he tells me, placing a kiss to my neck, then the top of one breast as he slides off the bed.
“I got some,” I tell him, pointing with my chin to the nightstand. He opens the drawer and smirks. “I didn’t know they came in hundred packs.”
Quirk my mouth and brows in response. “Wanted to be prepared,” I tell him, letting my eyes roam his stomach, down below it.
“Good fucking idea,” he tells me, doing the same to me. Heat blooms inside me, leaking out to every bit of exposed skin, warming me thoroughly. My nipples tighten, stomach hollows out in anticipation, and those tingles in my core are back again as I watch him tear the wrapper open, sheath himself, give it a stroke it once he’s suited up, eyes on me.
I keep my eyes on his erection, lower lip between two teeth as I breathe through the final seconds I’ll have to go without having felt what it’s like to have him inside of me the way I’ve fantasized about so many times.
He crawls up my body, hovers above me, holds himself up to give me a deep kiss, then lowers himself down on top of me. Runs a hand up my chest, squeezes a breast, rolls my nipple between his fingers and I feel myself slicken further. That hand slides up, cups the back of my head, as his other moves down in between our bodies. His fingers run down my entrance, eyes closing at what he feels there. He grips himself and I feel the head of his cock line up with my entrance.
“I’m so ready for this,” he tells me against my lips, and kisses me again.
“Get inside me already,” I whisper back, and he chuckles, shakes his head at me, and pushes in.
I don’t know what thefuckhe’s so insecure about, because he feels just as big inside of me as either of my previous partners. In fact, he feels perfect. I think he agrees, because his eyes close, he lets out this masculine groan that Ineedto hear again, and then he starts to move.
“Ah, fuck,” he says into my neck.
“Sums it up,” I get out, panting against his ear.
“Shit,” he says. “Shit, shit, shit.” I feel him jerk inside of me, hips bucking, and I don’t think he meant to do that.
“Need to slow down,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Take your time,” I tell him. “I’m not going anywhere.” Kiss his shoulder, run both hands down his back, stroke him, soothe him, remind him we’re in this together. He’s everything I could’ve dreamed he’d be and more. So fucking thoughtful. So attentive. Sogoodat what he does. Better than anyone has ever treated me, regardless of age, wealth, any other societal factor.
He pulls out for a second, shifts my hips around, slides back in. My eyes roll back, because whatever he just did surely was some sort of blip within the universe, a glitch in the Matrix, a hack to the laws of physics. From up here, it looks like he’s doing the same thing, but inside, it feelsalldifferent. He’s hitting spots that are lighting me up like a row of slot machines at one of the tribal casinos near here. Setting off things I didn’t know lived in me, reactions I’ve never felt before from penetrative—or any type of—sex.
Once again, I’ve lost my ability to form coherent thoughts, string words together, but I pant, make noises, so many noises that tell him what he’s doing is nothing but magic.
He smirks down at me, works his hips into me, watches my face, the rest of me, for my reactions.
“Good GOD, what are you doing to me?” I finally get out.
He takes his left arm, crooks it under my right leg, hooks my knee over his elbow, and lifts. Think that was the entrance to heaven he just found, and I start screaming when he hits it again and again. His jaw clenches, breathing heavy, and I can tell he’s trying not to come.
“Holy shit, why does this feel so much better than any sex I’ve had before?” I think it’s a rhetorical question, but I ask it anyway.
“Might be because you’re super fucking turned on,” he grits out, still pumping his hips into mine, our flesh slapping rhythmically.
The stereo clicks over to “Ride” by Chase Rice and Macy Maloy, and the sultry song sets the tone, amplifies the mood we’d already had going just fine on our own. The beat, however, is the perfect rhythm for what’s going on between us.
“Might be because you’ve already come twice,” he spits out, sweat breaking on his brow.
I start moving my hips to match his, and both of us shudder, groan a bit, close our eyes a bit more.
“Might just be whatever chemistry is between the two of us physically,” he tells me, still answering my question, as he rocks my world from the inside out.
“I choose D, all of the above,” I say. “And also, I choose your D,” I tell him, giggling.
