“Yes.”
“Look at you,” I murmur, my hands sliding up her sides, tracing the curve of her waist. “All confident all of a sudden.”
She tilts her head slightly, that same knowing smile still there.
“Maybe I was always like this.”
That does something to me.
My grip tightens, just a little.
“Yeah?” I say. “Then where’s this been all week?”
She leans down, closer now, her hair falling forward, brushing against my face.
“Waiting,” she whispers. “For this. For you.”
That’s it.
That’s the thing that pushes me over the edge again.
“Well, I like it,” I exhale, my head falling back for a second before I pull myself up just enough to meet her again—eyes, breath, everything.
She keeps moving, steady, unhurried, completely, beautifully in control now as she rides me.
And somehow, that’s even worse.
“Don’t stop,” I mutter, smacking her ass lightly and gripping her.
“Not gonna.”
Then, leaning down, she whispers, “Bet I can make you come.”
She grips me tighter and rides me harder. I feel my balls clench.
I guide her face down to mine and kiss her again, then spin her body around so her back is to the mattress, and I’m on top.
“I’m done,” I groan. “I’m gonna fill you up, Cass. You ready for my cum?”
“I want it,” she groans. “All of it.”
Something in my chest tightens at that. It’s not just the words—it’s the way she says it. It feels like she means more than just this moment.
I bury my face against her shoulder, holding her tighter, like I can anchor myself there, like I can keep this moment from slipping through my hands.
My orgasm slams through me as I give her everything I’ve got, using the headboard for leverage.
She exhales like she’s been holding something in for longer than tonight.
We hold like that for a minute. Maybe longer, until we finally separate our sweaty skin.
I get up, go to the bathroom, and bring her a towel.
She’s still sprawled across the sheets, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, and completely wrecked.
“Damn, Logan,” she says, her voice soft but stunned. “What was that?”
I let out a breath, shaking my head a little.
