The first push met resistance—tight, unyielding—and a sharp sting bloomed low in my belly, making me gasp and tense. My nails dug into his shoulders. I couldn’t help the small, involuntary flinch, the way my thighs clamped tighter around his hips. Scott stilled instantly, breath ragged against my mouth, eyes searching mine.
I nodded once. “Keep going… just slow.”
He did. Another careful inch, then another, the burn sharpening for a heartbeat before it began to soften, to stretch and give way. The pain ebbed into something fuller, deeper—a heavy, aching pressure that bordered on too much and yet wasn’t enough. My body opened to him gradually, inner walls fluttering around the slow invasion until he was seated fully, hips flush to mine, every inch of him buried inside me.
We both froze there, breathing hard. His heartbeat hammered against my breastbone; mine answered in frantic counterpoint, wild and unsteady but no longer afraid. It was then that Scott began to move in long, sure strokes that rocked me into the mattress. Each withdrawal left me aching, each thrust filled me, the slick glide of him inside me slicker with every pass. His hand slipped between us; one finger found the spot between my thighs and circled in tight, teasing spirals that made me tremble.
I dug my nails into his shoulders—hard enough to leave half-moons—and rolled my hips up to meet him. The angle changed; he hit something deep inside that sent white sparks behind my eyelids. A low, keening sound tore from my throat. He swallowed it with his mouth, tongue stroking mine in the same rhythm his hips drove into me.
My breasts slid against his chest with every thrust, nipples carving against his skin in delicious friction. The pressure built, coiling and tightening until it was almost unbearable. I clutched at him, nails raking down his back, legs locking tighter.
“Scott—”
He circled faster, thrust harder, deeper, until the wave inside me finally broke. Pleasure crashed through me in blinding pulses. I cried out against his mouth, body clenching around him in rhythmic spasms. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed, burying himself to the hilt and shuddering through his release.
We collapsed together, tangled and slick, chests heaving. His weight pinned me to the cushion, and I could feel every aftershock ripple through him, echoing in my own body. A helpless giggle bubbled up—then another—until we were both laughing, breathless and delirious, the absurdity of it entertaining us both.
“I don’t even know what’s so funny,” I managed.
“My ego is crumbling as we speak.” He huffed a laugh, rolled us so I was draped across his chest, and pulled the blanket higher. Our heartbeats gradually slowed.
“Do you regret it?” he asked.
“It’s still too soon to tell.”
“Right,” Scott replied. “I’ll circle back around in a few.”
“Actually, no,” I said, after thinking about it for a second. “I don’t regret a thing.”
We lay wrapped together, our bodies fitting seamlessly, and for a long time, we just listened to the tide. I couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, I didn’t feel like I had to shrink to fit someone else’s expectations. I felt… freed.
“Michelle?”
“Mm?” I lifted my face to his, close enough to feel his breath.
“I think…” He hesitated, his thumb tracing slow circles on my shoulder. “I think I’m in trouble with you.”
“Trouble how?” I asked, buying time I didn’t need. I knew exactly what he meant. I’d been fighting it too.
“Don’t make me spell it out,” he said.
He was going to have to. I wasn’t about to volunteer first.
He looked at me. “I’m falling, okay?” Then, almost to himself. “And I don’t do that.”
I forgot how to breathe.
“Neither do I,” I finally said. “But I think I am… falling too.”
His fingers glided over my cheek.
“Yeah?”
I nodded.
He pressed a lingering kiss to my lips, pulling me closer until his heartbeat thudded in rhythm with mine.
“Good,” he said. “Then we’re on the same page.”
