Holy Mother of Mercy.
I see God.
I see stars.
He's so warm, so tight, so fucking perfect. He moans into the pillow. I bottom out and just stay there, buried to the hilt. I can feel his body pulsing around me, still adjusting.
"Holy fuck," I groan, teeth gritted. "You feel unreal." I hold still, buried to the base inside him. His ass snug against my hips.
I lean over him, chest brushing his spine, and kiss the back of his neck. "Tell me you're okay."
He nods hard. "I'm okay. Just…move. Please."
I pull out a few inches, then thrust back in, deeper this time. The sound he makes is muffled, but desperate. His hands fist the sheets. I set a slow rhythm, grinding thrusts, hips rolling forward. I want him to feel everything.
God, I've had sex before. But never likethis.
I've never wanted anyone this fucking much. His skin burns under my palms. I watch his back muscles flex beneath me, his thighs tighten, his ass bounce every time I hit it.
I'm hypnotized by the sounds, the rhythm. Every moan he lets slip, every twitch of his hips, it drags me deeper under. My hips keep snapping forward. I don't even know how many times I've slid back in, just that every single time feels fucking better than the last.
I stare down at the way my dick disappears inside him, the way his hole pulls me in. Itwantsme there, I swear. I moan again because I want him to hear it. I want him to know how good this feels. Every sound I make is for him. His hands grip the sheets. He's gone. Fully gone.
"I want to see you," I rasp. I pull out slowly and turn him onto his back. I lift his legs, bring them over my shoulders. His knees frame my face. His body looks wrecked. Spread open. Needing me.
"I dreamed of this," he whispers. "Of this exact moment."
I hold his hips and line myself back up.
"You're such a whore." And I slide back inside him. We both moan at once. I lean in to kiss him, and I don't even think I'm gonna reach, but then he lifts his face and meets me halfway.
My hands grip behind his thighs, keeping his legs high, angling just right so I can go deeper.
I grab his chest because I need to feel them bounce while I'm fucking into him, and they do.
Fuck.
I squeeze hard, digging my fingers into his skin as I thrust.
Tomorrow morning I gotta walk into that stiff-ass conference room and pretend I barely tolerate this man. I'm supposed to look at him and go, "I disagree with your assessment, Rava," like I wasn't just balls deep in that exact assessment a few hours ago.
What a fucking joke. Everyone in that room thinks we hate each other, and we're fucking like animals.
They don't know shit. Tomorrow, I'll be sipping shitty coffee while he talks logistics with a straight face, and all I'll be thinking about is his fat ass.
And the best part is that he'll be doing the same exact thing, sitting there like a good boy, nodding along, acting like he wasn't swallowing my dick last night.
I swear, if someone finds out, it's over.
But until then…let them think we hate each other.
Let them believe the tension's from some dumb work rivalry.
Let them wonder why I can't stop smirking every time he talks. They'll never guess it's because he was screaming my name while we were having sex.
He is louder now. No pillow to hide behind. I kiss the inside of his knee, drive into him harder. Our skin slaps.
"Look at me," I demand. "Keep your eyes on me."
