He works his finger deeper, his movements careful, almost reverent. I breathe through it, letting my body adjust. When he’s fully in, I nod, and he starts to fingerfuck me, gaze fixed on my face.
“Another,” I say after a minute, my voice tight.
Thomas nods, adds more lube, and presses in a second finger. There’s a brief sting, a stretch that makes me flinch—then it shifts into burning pleasure. I let out a tiny moan, and he catches it—immediately going still.
“Did I—”
“Don’t stop,” I cut in, rocking back against his hand. “Please don’t stop. It’s perfect.”
Relief flickers across his face, then focus. He starts again, this time curling his fingers slightly with each thrust. I gasp when he hits my prostate—a sharp pulse of pleasure zipping through me.
“There?” he asks, eyes wide.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Right there.”
He keeps going, zeroed in on that spot, adjusting instinctively like he already knows my body. My thighs start to shake, the pressure building fast.
“One more,” I say, my voice catching when he hits it again. “Then I’m ready.”
He adds a third finger. The stretch burns a little more this time, and I flinch—but his free hand finds my thigh, steadying me. When he speaks again, his voice is rough, almost wondering.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says. “I can’t believe I get to touch you.”
I let out a sharp breath, pleasure short-circuiting something in my brain.
Thomas pulls his fingers out carefully, and I feel suddenly empty. But then he’s grabbing a condom, tearing it open with his teeth. I take it from him, rolling it down over his cock with hands that aren’t exactly steady. He groans, hips twitching under my touch.
“How do you want me?” I ask, already reaching for the lube again.
“Like this,” he says right away. “I want to see your face.”
The way he says it—quiet, sure—makes my breath catch. I nod and slick him up with a few quick strokes, then shift forward, positioning myself over him. There’s barely enough space in the backseat, but we figure it out—knees pressing into leather, hands gripping shoulders and thighs.
Thomas lines himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against me. Our eyes lock as I start to sink down, inch by inch. The stretch is intense, almost too much—but I keep going. I’ve wanted this too long to stop now.
“Oh my god,” Thomas groans, his hands clamped on my hips. “Carter, fuck… You feel unreal.”
I’m already stretched enough to take him, so I sink down all the way and pause, full to the hilt. Thomas is breathing hard beneath me, his muscles taut with restraint. I see it on his face—the sheer effort of holding still, wanting to move but waiting for me.
“You okay?” he asks, voice rough.
I nod, still catching my breath. The fullness of him inside me is almost too much. It’s everything I used to imagine in the dark, only now it’s real, and nothing could’ve prepared me for how it actually feels.
After a beat, I start to move—lifting up, then sliding back down. Thomas shudders, a low sound tearing out of him. I find a steady rhythm, adjusting to the stretch, shifting until pleasure spikes through me.
“Carter,” he moans, thrusting up to meet me. “Fuck, you’re perfect. So fucking tight around me. I’ve dreamed about you riding my cock like this—”
His words send heat racing through me. I’ve never heard Thomas like this. Never imagined he could sound so wrecked, so filthy. And I love it. I want more.
“Tell me,” I gasp, picking up the pace. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed about.”
His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer as we move. “Everything,” he pants. “Your mouth. Your hands. Your ass. Wanted to bend you over every surface we’ve ever shared. Wanted to hear the sounds you’d make when I fucked you.”
The words hit me hard—hot and shocking and impossible to recover from. This is Thomas. My Thomas. The one who once apologized for saying “damn” in front of my mom. And now he’s panting against my throat, telling me how he’s spent years wanting to fuck me.
His thrusts shift, hitting the spot again and again. The pleasure builds fast, winding tight at the base of my spine. I’m leaking between us, my cock aching, untouched and straining. I’m so close it hurts.
“Fuck, Carter,” Thomas groans, breath catching. “You take me so well. Your hole’s perfect—like it was made for me. I’ve waited years for this. Years of wanting you.”
