“Breathe, Andre.”
I obeyed—not even realizing I’d stopped. I offered a small smile.
He grinned back as he added a second finger.
My insides tingled. And not from anything he was doing. No. More from the realization I was really doing this. With someone I cared about.
He scissored and worked his way inside. Then he crooked his finger and hit my prostate. Electricity zinged through me. I’d done this before as well—but that sensation didn’t compare to this.
A drop of precum leaked, and he licked it off my rather sensitive tip.
He cocked his head. “You okay?”
I nodded vigorously. “Fine. Just fine.” Hell, even if I wasn’t, I sure as shit wasn’t going to say anything negative. Anything that might deter him. Anything that might derail this.
“Do you think you’re ready?” His serious expression spoke to me. His genuine concern for my well-being.
“For you? I think I’ve always been ready. That I’ve always been waiting.”Jesus. Cheesy much?
For my candor, though, I got a huge grin. “I feel the same way. I didn’t know I needed you, and now I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.” He slipped his fingers from me.
An overwhelming feeling of emptiness swept over me.
“Patience.” He coated his cock with lube. “I’m going to go gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle. I just want you in me. Right damn now.” Need thrummed through my veins in a way I couldn’t explain. In this moment, I needed more from him than I’d ever needed anything before.
He lined himself up and gently started pressing inside.
The odd sensation permeated me as he slowly eased in.
It hurt. Not a ton…but it sure didn’t feel good either.
“Keep breathing, Andre. And tell me to stop if you need me to. Consent, okay?”
Whatever that meant. “Just keep going.” Because pleasure always came after the pain, right? The discomfort increased until, after a minute, the pressure eased slightly.
“The head’s in. That’s the toughest part.” He inched in and then pulled back a bit. Pressed in farther, then pulled back again.
“You’re killing me.”
He cocked his head.
“In a good way.” Had to be clear about that.
“Okay.” He continued to push his way in until he stilled. “I’ve bottomed out.”
“Right.” Which meant he was about as far as he was going to go.
I continued to breathe as I adjusted to the sensation of fulness. “This is...good.”
“I’m going to move now.” He said the words through gritted teeth.
On instinct, I pressed my hand to his forehead. Sweat slicked under my touch. I wanted to ask if he was okay. His arms shook as he held himself above me. “I’m ready.” Because that felt like the right thing to say.
He nodded, withdrew almost to the tip, and thrust back in.
My body sang with the contact. With the pressure. With the knowledge he wanted this as much as I did. This might be the millionth time for him…but it was also the first time since his husband died. He might not have said the words out loud, but I knew them to be true.
