Because this isn’t just physical.
It never was.
It’s deeper than that.
Always has been.
And being here again—with her beneath me, around me, choosing me—yeah, that’s the part that hits the hardest.
I angle my hips, and I sink even deeper into her hot sex. Her sheath tightens, and fuck me, I need to come.
But not yet.
I reach between us, rubbing circles around her tight little clit. Just around the edge, but never quite touching her there.
And yeah, I know she wants it.
Esme whimpers, her thighs tighten around my hips.
My balls squeeze, but I’m not coming without her.
I reach between us, letting my hand settle low on her body, not giving her what she wants right away.
Not yet.
Not when I can feel her already trembling for it.
Control.
That’s what this is about.
Mine.
Hers.
And I need it—need to hold onto something steady when everything inside me is threatening to spiral.
Esme whimpers, her thighs tightening around me, pulling me in like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.
That sound—fuck.
It goes straight through me.
My body reacts instantly, every nerve ending firing, every instinct screaming to take, to claim, to lose control.
But I don’t.
I won’t.
Not yet.
Because I’ve already lost her once.
I’m not wasting this.
I’m not letting it slip through my fingers again without knowing—without being sure.
“You keep squeezing me like that…” I grind out, voice rough, barely held together, “this is gonna be over faster than I want it to be.”
