“That’s it,” I encourage, my thumbs brushing across her nipples. “Just like that.”
Her movements become more confident, lifting herself almost completely off me before sinking back down. The visual of her taking me, controlling our pace, is almost enough to undo me right there.
“You feel so good inside me,” she gasps, her hands braced against my chest for leverage. Her nails dig into my skin as she increases her pace. “Fuck… fuuuuuck…I missed this.”
I thrust up to meet her. “Is this what you needed?”Thrust.“To be in control?”
“Yes,” she breathes, grinding down against me. “And you love me being in control. Your dick feels like it’s getting bigger with me on top.” And she is right. I love to see women in control… especially in the bedroom.
I can feel her getting closer, her movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. One of my hands slides between us, finding her clit and circling it with just enough pressure to make her shudder.
“Come for me,” I command, my other hand gripping her hip to help guide her movements. “I want to feel and see you fall apart.”
The combination of my touch and probably my words sends her over the edge. She cries out, her back arching as her orgasm crashes through her. I feel her clench around me, milking me as wave after wave of pleasure wrack her body.
The sight of her coming undone above me, the feeling of her pulsing around me, pushes me past my breaking point. Before she can fully recover, I flip us over, pinning her beneath me. Her eyes flew open, dazed and confused.
“My turn,” I growl, hooking both of her legs over my shoulders to deepen the angle. The new angle has me hitting deeper than before, and Minji’s gasp tells me she feels every inch. Her legs tremble against my shoulders as I begin to move, slower this time, savoring the way she responds to each thrust.
“Aaron,” she whispers, her hands clutching at my forearms. “I can’t… it’s too much.”
But her body tells a different story. She’s meeting my thrusts, her hips rising to take me deeper despite her protests. I lean down, pressing my lips to her ankle and her calf, tasting the salt on her skin.
“You can take it,” I murmur against her leg. “You’re taking me so well, as if you and I were made for each other.”
I watch her face as I increase my pace slightly, noting every flutter of her eyelashes, every soft moan that escapes her lips. This position gives me complete control, and I use it to drive her wild, varying my rhythm, my depth, keeping her on the edge of another climax.
“Look at me,” I command when her eyes start to drift closed. “I want to see you when you come again.”
Her dark eyes lock with mine, and I see something there that makes my chest tighten. Vulnerability. Trust. Something deeper than the physical connection we’re sharing.
“I’m close,” she breathes, her voice breaking on the words.
“I know.” I feel her body tensing beneath me.
“??(fuck),” she says in her native tongue as her hands slide up my back to pull me closer. “Take what you want.” She’s using my words against me, and shit, it’s a turn on.
She meets each thrust, and her way of dirty talking is sending me over the edge. “Minji.” I groan, burying my face in her neck. “I’m close.” My thumb finds her clit, circling in time with my thrusts. The dual stimulation will be her undoing.
“Come for me,” she whispers, her lips brushing my ear. “Be agoodboyand come for me.” Her inner walls clamp down around me like a vise, the sensation is so intense it nearly blinds me.
I follow her over the edge, my release hitting me like a freight train. I bury myself deep inside her, groaning her name as I spill into the condom. For a moment, I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t exist outside the incredible feeling of being connected to her. When the waves of pleasure finally subside, I carefully lower her legs and withdraw. She winces slightly, and I press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Are you okay?”
“More than okay.” Her voice is hoarse. “Justsensitive.”
I dispose of the condom and return to bed, pulling her against my side. She doesn’t resist, which surprises me. Her head rests on my chest, her breathing gradually returning to normal. “That was…” she begins, then falls silent.
“Incredible.” I finish for her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Mind-blowing. Earth-shattering.”
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Writers and their excessive adjectives.”
“You inspire hyperbole.”
We lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes and our breathing synchronizes. She breathes with a slow, stunned cadence, and I match it instinctively, letting myself get swept into her orbit. My hand traces lazy semicircles along her hip, mapping every inch of her as if I could learn her language by touch alone. Beneath the sheet, her skin is radiant and impossibly soft, pliant under my palm, a living contradiction to the steel she keeps in her voice.
For this fleeting moment, Minji let her guard down completely. I memorize every detail—the curve of her shoulder, the rhythm of her breath against my chest—knowing it’s temporary. The girl who tried hard not to laugh at my jokes during our tutoring sessions has transformed into this formidable woman beside me. Her defenses are legendary in courtrooms across Manhattan for good reason. I wonder if William was the one who taught her that vulnerability leads to devastation, or if she’d already begun building those walls long before him.
