“Oh fuck.”
“That’s it,” Sebastian praised. “Just keep breathing through it.”
I focused on my breathing—in through my nose, out through my mouth—while my body adjusted to having him inside me. The burning soon faded to a dull ache, then to something that felt almost good.
“Okay,” I managed. “More.”
Sebastian pushed in another inch, then another, working his way inside me with agonizing patience. Every time I tensed, he’d stop and wait for me to relax again. Every time I whimpered, he’d murmur words of praise.
“You’re taking me so well.”
“Look how good you open up for me.”
“So perfect. You feel so fucking perfect, Tay.”
When he bottomed out, we both went completely still. Being this full, this stretched, was overwhelming. I could feel every inch of him, could feel him pulsing inside me. Could feel the tremor in his body as he held himself above me.
Sebastian’s eyes met mine, his expression stripped of every defense he usually wore. I’d never seen him look so undone, so completely open. For a long moment, we just stared at one other, suspended in this perfect, impossible space between what we’d been and what we were becoming.
Then he leaned down and kissed me.
“I love you,” he whispered. “God, Taylor, I love you so fucking much.”
The words crashed over me, and suddenly I couldn’t hold mine back any longer. Even if everything fell apart later. Ineeded him to know that right now, in this moment, he was mine.
“I love you, too,” I said, my voice breaking. “I never stopped.”
He dropped his head to the crook between my neck and my shoulder, kissing me there, whispering words of affirmation against my skin.
The first drag of his cock as he pulled back had me gasping. My mouth dropped open, and my head fell back, my neck arching. He pushed slowly back in, and the sensation was so intense I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
“Fuck. Yes. Keep going.”
Long, deep strokes that had him brushing against my prostate with every thrust were followed by quick, shallow thrusts, the pressure building gradually until every exhale became a moan.
“That’s it,” Sebastian murmured, his hips rolling against mine.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and anchored my heels on the small of his back, pulling him deeper, and we both groaned at the new angle.
Sebastian’s hand found mine, our fingers lacing together, and he pinned my hand to the mattress beside my head.
“God, Taylor, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this. I’ve literally dreamed about it.”
I hadn’t dreamed about this exactly. But in those first few weeks after he left, I’d wake up in the middle of the night having reached for him. I’d missed him with a fierceness I hadn’t known I was capable of. And when I realized he was never coming back, it had broken me.
I surged up and captured his mouth in a hard kiss. He moaned as I sucked on his tongue. “Show me,” I said, dropping back down to the pillows.
Sebastian’s control splintered, his hips snapping forward. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by our harsh breaths and the broken noises spilling from my throat.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered.
I wrapped my free hand around my dick and stroked in time with his thrusts, the dual sensations pushing me closer and closer to the edge until I felt like I was going to explode.
“Oh god. I’m gonna?—.”
Sebastian’s rhythm faltered. “Give it to me.”
