The last time we were in this position, this was where he stopped us, but not this time.
He rears back, slides to the edge of the bed, and takes hold of the top of his pants, but he struggles to get them off, the material visibly sticking to his skin. Not surprising since it’s waterlogged.
“Fuck,” he mutters, pushing at it.
His muscles bunch, rippling across his back and bulging at his biceps, and I can’t help but take some delight from it.
Fuck me, he’s beautiful.
Rising into a sitting position behind him, I run my hands over his shoulders and around to his chest, planting kisses across his shoulder blades.
He stills at my touch, his breath hitching when I slip to the floor to stand in front of him.
His gaze passes from my face to my hips and back up again, and the desire I see in his eyes makes my toes curl.
I’m not about to stand here under his heated gaze forever.
With a soft snarl, I plant my hands on his chest and push him back onto the bed so that I can take hold of his pants and peel them off him. Not easily or quickly, but when I’m done, I pitch them into the corner of the room with a triumphant smile.
Only to find him coming for me.
He scoops his arm around my waist and pulls me back onto the bed, twisting so that I’m lying on my back again. With two quick sweeps, he guides my legs around his hips.
But there, he slows. He takes a moment to draw his lips across mine. Brush his chest against me so that my nipples tighten. Nudge my ear and send a trickle of need into my stomach before he whispers the question I want to hear. “May I fuck you?”
My answer is a low moan before I force it into speech. “Yes.”
His eyes flare with desire before he leans back to take hold of my hips and positions himself above me.
He takes it slow, stopping when my muscles clench hard around him. My body tightens with the new sensations, my muscles clamping, but need and want are paramount.
I have no fear.
Meeting his movement, I pull back a little, drive forward a little, back a little, forward a little more, every time taking him deeper as my body adjusts to his size and length.
He lets me take control, becoming very still, his fists clenched around the sheets on either side of my head, the desire in his eyes making me burn. With every slow slip back and forth, the movement eases until I take a deep breath and drive upward with a groan.
He takes back control—or maybe I’m still in control. I don’t know which and I don’t fucking care.
Our bodies clash and every thrust takes me higher. Toward a peak I didn’t know existed. More pleasure than I thought my body could take, more than I thought I could possibly feel.
His arms slide beneath me, drawing me up closer, supporting me as he drives into me and everything around us disappears.
There is only this.
His body and mine. His mouth on mine. His hands stroking my breasts, reaching between us and stroking my core.
There is only a blur of heat and need and movement.
The final thrust takes me over the edge, my senses spiraling before I crash into pure bliss that cascades through me, wave after intense wave, for so long that I’m gasping and gripping his back, barely able to anchor myself. Barely wanting to.
Slowly, slowly, I come back to myself.
I’m trembling, shivering, and covered in sweat.
So is he.
With a soft growl in the back of his throat, he drops his lips to mine, tasting my mouth before he rolls onto his back, taking me with him so that I’m straddling him.
