Once I’m fully seated inside her, I hold her hips still for a moment, eyes fluttering, throat swallowing as I try to gather myself.
I’ve had plenty of sex, but this feels significant. Monumental. A defining moment, and one I never thought I would have the privilege of experiencing.
“I have wanted this for so long.” My voice is gravelly and desperate.
She pushes against my bruising grip and rolls forward as she nods with her eyes closed.
Wonder. There’s no other word to describe how it feels to watch her.
Fuck. I can’t tell her I love her when she’s sitting on my dick. That’s no different than a starved man complimenting the chef. I can’t do that. But I want to.
My hands move up to her waist, and she falls forward, her arms draped over my shoulders. She slides up my cock, and then down. I let her feel her way through this for now and experiment with what feels good. I let her take it slow. For now.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Full,” she whimpers. “But so”—her breath hitches—“good.”
“You’re so tight for me, sweet girl. So warm and”—I thrust up into her as I smooth her hair, petting her—“perfect.”
She arches back, giving me a lovely view of her, the fire crackling behind her, lovely tits on display for me. Our bodies rock back and forth, finding a rhythm, and she falls forward again so that she is pressed flush against my chest.
With my arms wrapped around her waist, and her sweet moans filling my senses, I need to fuck her.
I snake one arm up her spine and pull her as close to me as she can possibly be as I begin to drive up into her at a relentless pace. I want to fuck her so hard that she wakes up in the morning and can still feel me there between her legs. It’s reprehensible, I know. I wonder if that’s why I hurt her before I knew how to love her; so that she would think of me even if it was for all the wrong reasons.
“Oh my god!” she cries as I maintain my pace.
She says my name over and over again like it’s a prayer. “Bennett, Bennett, Bennett, Bennett.”
I slide down in my seat and slow just enough so that my thumb can find that pleasure spot. With her hands on my shoulders, she drops her hips down on me, her inner walls clenching until I’m seeing stars.
“I can’t—” she chokes out. “You’re going to make me come.”
She rides me while I concentrate on her clit with one hand and cradle her jaw with the other. Her forehead is drawn in concentration as her hips create tight circles. The color in her cheeks has spread to her chest, and my thumb sweeps across her parted lips.
“Look. At. Me.” I grunt as each word lands on a thrust. “Look at me when I make you come, Clo.”
“Yes,” she says, her lids heavy and eyes glazed. “Yes.”
What else could I ask for in this moment? What else would she say yes to?Stay, I beg silently.Just stay.
I hold her gaze, pupils blown, as she begins to clench, her muscles spasming. My attention on her clit is unwavering.
She is beautiful in every way. Her hair curls into its natural waves after running through the rain. Her round cheeks are that perfect shade of pink. My favorite color, though I’m starting to think the color of her nipples is a close second.
“Right there,” she says, and I even commit the way her toes curl to memory.
Then as if she herself has been struck by lightning, her body stills, jaw slack for a moment as she falls apart with a throaty moan. A string of my name and curse words and then my nameasa curse word streams past her lips as I drive into her once more. She makes slow, lazy circles with her hips as her body jerks with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
After a moment, she looks down to me with a soft, astonished laugh. She pitches forward and kisses me, her tongue lashing out against mine as she starts to move with purpose again.
But I can’t hold back any longer, not after seeing the way her brain broke from the orgasm I gave her.
My fingers dig into her waist as my hips snap upward, driving into her.
“Come for me,” she whispers in my ear. “I want to feel it all.”
My balls are tight and full as one hand comes up to fist in her hair. My rhythm begins to stutter as that distinctly hedonistic pleasure begins to tighten in my belly like a snake preparing to strike.
