“I’m very real,” I assure while reaching for him. “And getting very impatient.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me as he steps between my thighs again. His hands slide up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts, and I arch into his touch. When his thumbs finally brush over my nipples, I gasp, electricity shooting straight to my core.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, leaning down to replace his thumbs with his mouth. The warm wetness of his tongue makes me moan, my fingers tangling in his hair to hold him closer.
He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of him pressing against me, seeking permission. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, urging him forward.
“Wait,” he whispers. “I should get protection.”
“Not necessary,” I tell him. “You’re clean. I’m clean. I’m on the pill and I want to feel you. All of you.”
The look he gives me nearly undoes me—part wonder, part hunger, all love. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” I whimper, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist to pull him closer. “I need you.”
He positions himself once more, the blunt head of his cock teasing me. “Look at me,” he commands softly, and I do, my eyes finding his. That’s another thing I love about being with him. He always wants to see me, to connect with me in our most intimate moments.
“I love you, Sutton,” he whispers as he pushes into me slowly, stretching me in the most delicious way. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I gasp as he fills me completely, my body adjusting to his impressive size. So many thoughts are running through my head but then he starts to move and I stop thinking altogether.
“Fuck, it’s so good,” he says with a measured thrust, his voice thick with need. “You feel…absolutely incredible.”
His pace is slow at first, almost reverent as he watches my face, gauging my reactions. My fingernails dig into his shoulders as pleasure builds with each stroke, the wood shavings underneath me creating a strange sensory contrast against my bare skin. The workshop fills with our mingled breaths and the rhythmic creak of the workbench beneath us.
“Harder,” I urge, digging my nails into his shoulders. “Please, Shepherd.”
He obliges, gripping my hips tighter as he increases his pace. The workbench protests beneath us, tools rattling with each powerful thrust. I don’t care if the whole thing collapses. All that matters is this connection, this perfect rhythm we’ve found together.
“You’re so beautiful,” he pants, one hand sliding up to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple. “The way you take me…Christ, Sutton, look at us. Look how you take my cock with every fucking thrust.”
I bow my head glancing at our connection as he pushes inside me and then drags himself back out, his cock glistening with my arousal. I’ve never been one for needing the visual when it comes to sex, but watching my body welcome Shepherd’s heightens the experience in ways I’ve never known. His eyes are locked on where we’re joined, seeing himself disappear inside me with each thrust, and the raw hunger in his expression makes me feel powerful and desired in a way I’ve never experienced before. This is what real intimacy feels like; being completely exposed and still feeling utterly safe.
I moan his name when his hand slides between our bodies, his thumb finding my clit with perfect pressure. “Oh God, Shepherd. Yes.” The dual sensation of him filling me completely while touching me exactly where I need it makes my thighs shake.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough with restraint. “I want to see your eyes when you fall apart in my arms. I want to feel you trembling against me, knowing I’m the one who brings you this pleasure, this peace.”
My body tightens around him as the pressure builds, my hips bucking against his. I’m vaguely aware of something clattering to the floor—probably one of his tools—but neither of us pauses.
“Fuck, Shepherd,” I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me, the one that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he promises, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. “I could stay inside you forever.”
The workshop fills with the sounds of our lovemaking, skin against skin, my breathless moans, his deep groans, the rhythmic creaking of the workbench that somehow hasn’t collapsed beneath us. The scent of sawdust mingles with the heady aroma of sex, creating something uniquely us.
Pressure builds inside me, that delicious tightening that signals I’m close. Shepherd must sense it too because his movements become more deliberate, more focused, his thumb finding my clit with unerring accuracy.
“Oh my God, Shepherd…I’m going to come.”
“Good. Let me hear you baby. Don’t hold back. Scream my name for all of Portland to hear.”
The orgasm hits me with such force that I arch back, nearly toppling off the workbench if not for Shepherd’s strong arm keeping me anchored. My body convulses around him, waveafter wave of pleasure crashing through me as his name tears from my throat in a cry that echoes through the workshop, bouncing off the walls around us.
“That’s it,” Shepherd groans, watching me come undone. “So fucking gorgeous.”
I’m still trembling with aftershocks as Shepherd quickens his pace, his control slipping, his breathing ragged against my neck. His fingers dig into my hips, hard enough that I might have bruises tomorrow, but I don’t care. I want his marks on me. I want this reminder of how completely I’ve given myself to him, and how completely he’s given himself to me.
“Sutton,” he groans, his voice breaking on my name. “Ah, fuck, I’m close.”
