Jace retrieves it while I strip off my remaining clothes, tossing them aside without care. When I turn back to him, his eyes rake over my body with an intensity that makes me feel powerful instead of exposed.
"You're beautiful," he says.
"You don't have to—"
"I'm not being polite." He pulls me back onto his lap, positions me so I'm straddling his thighs. "I'm stating a fact. You're beautiful. Every part of you."
He slicks his fingers with lube and reaches between my legs.
The first touch makes me gasp. Cold and slick, circling my entrance with deliberate pressure. He doesn't push in right away, just rubs and teases, letting my body adjust to the sensation.
"Relax," he murmurs. "I've got you."
I breathe out. Force my muscles to unclench.
The first finger slides in.
It's been a while since we've done this. My body resists at first, tightening around the intrusion. But Jace is patient, working his finger in slow circles, stretching me gradually.
"More," I say when I'm ready.
A second finger joins the first. The stretch burns, but it's a good burn, a burn that promises pleasure to come. He scissors his fingers, opening me up, preparing me for something bigger.
"You're so tight." His voice is strained. "So hot inside. I can feel you clenching around me."
I rock back onto his hand, fucking myself on his fingers. The angle shifts, and suddenly he's pressing against that spot inside me, the one that makes sparks explode behind my eyes.
"There." I grab his shoulders, nails digging in. "Right there, don't stop—"
He adds a third finger and keeps hitting that spot, over and over, until I'm shaking and leaking and seconds from coming.
"Enough." I bat his hand away, breathing hard. "I want your cock. Now."
He doesn't argue. He slicks himself up, positions the head at my entrance, and waits.
I sink down.
The stretch is incredible.
He's bigger than his fingers, filling me in a way that borders on too much. I take him inch by inch, pausing whenever the burn intensifies, letting my body adjust before taking more.
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. His jaw is clenched, muscles standing out in his neck. He's holding himself perfectly still, letting me control the pace.
"You feel—" His voice breaks. "Elliot, you feel—"
"I know." I bottom out, taking all of him, feeling impossibly full. "I feel it too."
For a moment, neither of us moves. We just breathe together, adjusting to the connection, the intimacy of being joined so completely.
Then I start to move.
I lift myself slowly, feeling every inch of him drag against my inner walls. The friction is exquisite, a slow-building pleasure that radiates outward from where we're connected. I drop back down, taking him deep again, and we both moan.
I find a rhythm. Rising and falling, rotating my hips on each downstroke, chasing the angle that makes everything light up inside me. Jace's hands guide me, not controlling, just helping me move more efficiently.
"You're so good at this," he says. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for me."
"Maybe I was." I lean down, capture his mouth in a sloppy kiss. "Maybe this is what I was always supposed to be. Not property. Not an asset. Just yours."
