He reaches over, fumbling through the contents until he finds what he’s looking for. I watch him tear the package open with his teeth, the simple action somehow incredibly sexy.
“Help me,” he says, and I realize he’s asking me to put it on him. My hands tremble slightly as I take the condom, rolling it down his length. He feels thick and heavy in my palm.
“Okay?” he asks, voice strained.
“Very okay,” I assure him, guiding him toward me.
He positions himself between my thighs, the tip of him pressing against my entrance. Our eyes lock, and something passes between us.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, slowly pushing forward.
The stretch burns slightly, my body adjusting to him. He moves with careful restraint, watching my face for any sign of discomfort.
“You feel incredible,” he says, forehead pressed against mine. “So perfect.”
When he’s fully seated within me, we both pause, adjusting to the sensation. I feel impossibly full, connected to him in a way that transcends the physical.
“Move,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Please.”
He starts slow, shallow thrusts that build gradually in intensity. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure through me, building on the foundation his fingers laid earlier. I dig my nails into his shoulders, urging him deeper.
“Piper.” He groans, pace increasing. “God, you feel?—”
“I know.” I gasp, meeting his thrusts. “Me too.”
We find a rhythm together, perfect and primal.
His hand slides to my hip, gripping me tight as his thrusts become more deliberate. I can’t help the moan that escapes me when he hits that perfect spot inside.
“There?” he whispers, angling to strike it again.
“Yes—right there—don’t stop.” I am panting, my words dissolving into incoherent sounds as he maintains the rhythm.
He dips his head to my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone. “God, you’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs against my skin. “All flushed and perfect.”
I laugh breathlessly. “I’m a mess.”
“A gorgeous mess,” he corrects, nipping at my earlobe. “My gorgeous mess.”
The possessiveness in his voice sends a thrill through me. I arch up, seeking more contact, more friction, more of him.
“Ethan…” I gasp as tension builds low in my belly, that familiar coiling sensation intensifying with each thrust.
“I know, Pip. I can feel you.” His voice is strained, control slipping. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
I nod frantically, beyond words now. His hand slips between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, and the dual sensations make me cry out.
“That’s it,” he encourages, circling his thumb in perfect counterpoint to his thrusts.
“Come with me,” he urges, his movements growing more erratic as his own control slips. “Together, Pip?—”
The tension inside me coils impossibly tight before shattering completely. I cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me, my entire body clenching around him. He follows immediately, his rhythm faltering as he groans againstmy neck, his release pulsing in perfect synchrony with the aftershocks of my own.
For several moments, we remain frozen together, trembling and breathless. His weight presses me into the mattress, but I don’t mind—I want to feel every inch of him against me, proof that what just happened was real.
Eventually, he lifts his head, looking down at me with wonder. His hair is messy from my fingers, his eyes bright, his smile almost shy.
“Fuck me…” he trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.
