Matt drags my bottom lip between his teeth, then hovers above my mouth, panting, eyes locked on mine. “Fuck, babe. I want to make this last forever, but I want to fuck you so bad.”
“Then fuck me,” I breathe. “Now.”
He kisses me again, then reaches between us, lining himself up, dragging the tip through me, wetting it.
He looks at me, like he’s asking permission.
He doesn’t need it. Not right now. But I nod anyway.
He pushes into me, eliciting a soft gasp from my throat as he fills me completely. He pulls out, then drives back in. Again and again. Each thrust stronger, deeper, harder.
I wrap my ankles behind him and lift my hips off the bed, angling myself until he hits exactly where I want him.
“Fuck,” he groans.
We move together, chasing the same end. Sweat slicks our skin. Our breaths turn ragged, mixing in the thick, charged air between us.
My fingers trace his shoulders, down his back, feeling every flex of muscle as his pace turns rougher and more primal. I glance down, watching his cock slide in and out of me, the sight alone tightening everything low in my stomach.
“God,” I whisper, as another orgasm builds.
“Come with me, babe,” he grunts.
“I’m close,” I breathe.
He thrusts two more times, hard and deep, hitting that spot and holding it just long enough to send me over the edge.
I cry out when it hits, pleasure tearing through me. My legs lock around him as I chase every ounce of it.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he follows, burying himself deep.
He stills, shuddering, then lowers over me, holding himself on his forearms, his breath hot against my neck.
His lips meet mine in a slow, exhausted kiss, like he has nothing left to give. But God, it’s sexy.
He pulls out and rolls onto his back, hand falling to his chest. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good.”
I turn toward him. He’s staring at the ceiling, grin stretching a mile wide. His gaze drops to me and he extends his arm. “Come here.”
He reaches for me, but I shake my head.
His brows furrow. “You’ve always loved to cuddle after sex.”
“I do,” I say softly. “But I just want to look at you for a minute.”
“Alright.” He rolls onto his side, and I move a tiny bit closer until my face is inches from his, staring at him, sharing the same air.
He smiles and takes my hand, lifting it to his mouth. He presses my palm to his lips and kisses it tenderly.
His eyes search mine.
I search back, feeling a steady comfort. Familiar. Safe.
Those eyes.
I’ve stared into them so many times over the past thirty years.
They’ve filled with tears from laughing so hard together.
