I love every bit of it.
"Stop," he gasps. "Stop, stop, come here. I want us together."
I release him and climb back up his body. He grabs me and rolls us, putting me on my back, and now he's above me. His weight settles on me and it's the first time he's let his full weight press me into the mattress. Instead of panic I feel anchored. Grounded. Covered by him like a blanket made of muscle and warmth.
He kisses me, hard and deep, groaning into my mouth. His hand slides down my body, wrapping around me, and Igasp against his lips. He strokes me slow, once, twice, learning my rhythm the way he did the first time but with more confidence now, and the feeling of his rough callused hand on me is so different from my own hand that I can't breathe.
Then he takes both of us in one hand.
He spits into his palm, wraps his fingers around us both, and the feeling of him pressed against me, hot and hard, his huge hand encompassing us together, his thick fingers tight around both of us, is more than my brain can process. The slick heat. The friction. The pressure of him against me, his hand around us, his mouth on my neck and his weight on my body. Every sense is overloaded at once.
"Open your eyes," he says. "I want to see you."
I look at him. His face is above mine, flushed and sweating and beautiful, his brown eyes burning into mine, and his hand starts to move. Slow at first. Long, slow strokes that drag the length of both of us, his grip tight enough to feel everything, the ridge of him against me, the heat of his skin against my skin.
"This feels incredible," he says. "Both of us together like this. Can you feel that? Can you feel how good this is?"
"Yes." It's all I can say. "Yes."
He picks up the pace. His hand moves faster and his breathing gets heavier. His forehead drops against mine and we're breathing the same air, sharing the same heat. His hand is stroking us together. The friction is building and building and his thumb swipes across the head on every upstroke. I'm making sounds I don't recognize, sounds that come from somewhere deep within me.
"Come with me," he says. "I want us together."
His hand moves faster. His grip tightens. His mouth finds mine and the kiss is sloppy and perfect. His body is moving against mine and I can feel him getting close because I can feel everything, every twitch, every pulse. I'm right there with him, right at the edge, and the wave is rising.
"Now," he says against my mouth. "Now, baby."
We shatter at the same time. His body goes rigid against mine and I feel him pulse in his hand, hot against me. The sensation triggers my own release and I come so hard my vision whites out. The sound I make is lost in his mouth and his hand keeps moving through both of us, slowing, gentling, milking every last tremor while we shake apart together.
He collapses on me with his full weight for the first time. I wrap my arms around his back and I take every ounce of his weight. I hold him and I don't feel trapped.
Instead, he feels like home.
His breath is ragged against my neck, hot and uneven, and his heart hammers against my chest like it's trying to climb inside me. For a long minute neither of us speaks. We just breathe together, bodies slick with sweat and release, his cock softening against my stomach, mine still twitching with aftershocks in the cradle of his palm.
He shifts slightly, just enough to take some of his weight on his elbows, but he doesn't pull away. His forehead rests on mine again, eyes closed.
"You still with me?" he whispers.
"Yeah. I'm right here."
He opens his eyes, searching mine. "Did I... was that too much? Too heavy? Too fast?"
I shake my head, fingers tracing the line of his spine. "No. It was perfect. I asked for it. I wanted to feel your strength. Your size. You gave me exactly what I asked for."
He lets out a long breath. "I was scared that you'd feel trapped under me."
"I don't feel trapped. I feel protected. Like nothing can touch me except you. Like your body is a shield instead of a cage." I swallow, the words thick with emotion. "That's new for me. You gave me that."
He presses a kiss to my temple, then my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. "You have no idea what it means to hear that. To know you feel safe with me. I love you so much it hurts sometimes. Like my chest isn't big enough to hold it all."
I cup his face again, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. "I love you too. And I love this.Us.The way we can be raw and real. And I love when you listen when I say I want more. The way you give without taking anything away. You're everything to me, Tex. I don't know how to express it, but I want you to know that. You're all I'll ever want or need."
He pulls me against him. I fit into the curve of his body, my back against his chest, his arm around my waist, his face in my hair. He holds me the way I told him to hold me. Not careful. Just holding. Full and tight.
"Stay here," he murmurs. "Don't move yet. I want to feel you against me a little longer."
I nestle closer, head under his chin, listening to his heartbeat slow from frantic to steady. His fingers resume their lazy patterns on my back, long, soothing strokes that trace my spine, circle my shoulder blades, dip into the small of my back. Every touch is gentle now, as if he's still checking if I'm okay.
