His fingers massage my rim and I start to melt again.
It doesn’t take long before he has three fingers back in me and I’m a panting mess.
He grabs my thighs and jerks my body further onto the bed. “I can’t wait any longer.”
“Then don’t.”
I stay focused on his face, watching his concentration as he lines himself up.
He drives forward.
“Fuck!” I cry out, my back arching off the mattress.
My legs clamp around him, preventing him from going further.
He’s deeper than before, but not by much.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he strains out. “Why do you keep locking yourself up like this?”
“Because I’m—holy fuck!” I curse as he tries to push deeper. “Because I’m not a fucking bottom.”
Tek stops dead in his tracks, his face a ball of confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m a top. What do you think I mean?”
He reaches a hand down to grope at my flesh. “So I’m the only one to ever have this ass?”
“My god, don’t look so pleased with yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
His expression reads smug, and I fucking hate it, but I also love it more than anything. Because he wouldn’t care about that if he didn’t care about me first.
He kisses my nose and pulls out.
I gripe at the emptiness.
“You already a whore for it?”
I glare at him as he gathers the two pillows. “Shut the fuck up.”
“No.”
“Don’t you dare start treating me like something that’ll break,” I warn, but let him stack the pillows anyway.
He pats the stack and I lay on them with my hips raised.
Gripping my waist, Tek enters me again.
His hands are all over me, like he’s searching for the part of my body that will let him in with the least resistance.
I force my eyes to stay open and locked on his as he draws his hips further and further forward, sinking deeper, inch by inch.
The strain is still intense, but the pain is gone.
He pulls out again, scoops under my hips, and shifts me into a better position like I weigh nothing.
