"Don't stop," she breathes. "God, please don't—"
I bring her right to the edge. Feel her tightening around my fingers, her breath going ragged, her thighs beginning to tremble where they grip my waist.
Then I ease back.
She makes a broken sound. Her hips chase the contact. "Logan—"
"Not yet." Low, against her temple. "I want you to come on my cock."
The noise she makes at that — small, desperate, helpless — goes straight through me. My cock is hard and aching where it presses against her inner thigh, the heat of her skin unbearable.
"Well hurry up then," she says.
I smile and position myself at her entrance. Meet her eyes.
Then I push inside.
The sound she makes is not quiet. It comes out of her raw and broken, her head tipping back, her whole body opening around me. She's tight and slick and so fucking warm and I go still with the effort of not just driving into her immediately, giving her a moment to adjust, watching her face through every second of it.
"Okay?" I ask.
She lifts her head and looks at me. "More than okay," she breathes. "Keep going."
I begin to move.
She meets me. Her hips roll against mine with every thrust, water sloshing around our waists, and the sounds she's making have gone from words to something less structured. Her left hand is at my back — not scratching, gripping, holding on — and each time I drive into her, her whole body lifts slightly, seeking more depth, taking everything I give.
I find the angle she needs and hold it. She gasps, clenching around me suddenly, her whole body going momentarily taut.
"There," she says, her voice cracking. "Right there, don't—"
"I know." I hold the angle. I keep moving, each thrust deliberate, watching her face like I did when fear was the currency between us. The same attention. The same precision. Entirely different purpose.
Her eyes find mine and stay. Even when they want to close — I watch her drag them back, the effort visible, the choice to stay present. To see me. To let me see her.
I reach between us. My thumb finds her clit and she makes a sound that echoes off the tile, her whole body shuddering, her pussy clenching so tight around my cock that my rhythm stutters. My other hand finds her breast, full and plump.
"Tell me," she says, her voice barely air. "When I come — tell me again."
I press my mouth to her temple. Her cheekbone. The corner of her eye still wet from crying.
"I love you," I say. Low. Certain. Right against her skin. “You’re my good little girl.”
She shatters.
Her orgasm hits her all at once — her walls clenching rhythmically around my cock, her hips snapping forward, her head falling back as the sound tears loose from somewhere deep and undisguised. Her whole body shaking, riding it out, and I keep moving through all of it — working her clit, driving into her, giving her every second of it — and she's saying my name and I'm sayingI love youagain because I can't stop, because it's been true for weeks and now it's out and nothing is holding it back anymore.
She's still pulsing around me when I follow her over.
The release moves through me like fire. I bury myself in her and hold there, shaking, her name in my mouth, the orgasm tearing through me with my face pressed against her throat. She wraps her left arm around my shoulders and holds on, her right arm resting against my back where she can manage it. We stay that way — both shaking, both breathing hard, her legs still locked around my waist, the warm water moving slowly around us.
Her heartbeat against my chest. Fast, then slower. Slower.
After a long moment she says, quietly, "Hi."
"Hi."
"You okay?"
