She’s something I’ll crave for the rest of my life.
Her breath comes faster. Her voice breaks on my name.
“I…Lance…fuck…”
“I’ve got you. Let me have it.”
She clenches around my fingers, cries out, her hips jerking as the orgasm tears through her. I don’t stop. I keep going, slower now, dragging it out while her body twitches and she moans, helpless and mine and so fucking perfect I can barely stand it.
When I finally pull back, her thighs fall open, trembling. Her chest rises and falls like she just ran one of the sprints I made her do. She looks down at me through heavy-lidded eyes, flushed and glowing.
I press one last kiss to her thigh, then crawl up her body, my touch trailing over her curves, until I’m hovering above her.
Her hands find my shoulders, sliding up to cup the back of my neck, and when our mouths meet, it’s slick.
“You okay?”
She nods. “Better than okay.”
I kiss her again, then flip her gently onto her stomach. She gasps but moves with me, letting me guide her up onto her hands and knees, her hair falling around her face, her back arching.
She looks over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and my heart stutters then kicks as I run my hands down her spine, tracing every dip and slope. My palms slide lower, over the curve of her ass, and I pause, letting my thumbs press into the soft skin, parting her.
The sight of her open and glistening nearly kills me. She’s so wet I can see it on her thighs, and my cock aches, but I don’t touch myself. I can’t. I’m too locked into the image of her spread out for me, trusting me with everything she has.
I lean in close, my chest brushing her back, my lips at her ear.
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
She shivers, hips tilting back.
I press the head of myself to her entrance, and just that first inch sliding in makes my head drop to her shoulder with a groan. She’s warm and tight and fluttering around me, and this angle lets me feel every inch of her. The way she grips me, pulling me deeper, clenching like she doesn’t want to let go.
“Fuck. You feel…”
She moans, pushing back. “More. Lance,please.”
I grip her hips and slide in deeper. She gasps when I bottom out, her body arching into mine, and for a moment we both go still. Her breath catches. Mine, too.
It’s possession and devotion and everything I’ve been holding back poured into the feel of her taking me this deep.
Then I move. My ribs scream at me, my knuckles are split, and my lip burns, but I don’t care. Not when the pleasure of her drowns out the pain.
I pull back slowly, dragging out until only the tip remains, then slam back in. The sound of skin on skin is filthy and loud in the quiet room, and she cries out. I set a rhythm. Deep andrough. Each thrust drives into her harder, the wet sound of it relentless, and she meets every stroke, crying my name. I slide one hand around her waist, down to where we’re joined, and rub her clit in tight circles.
“Come for me again, I want to feel it while I’m inside you.”
“Pull my hair.”
The words hit me in the gut. I fist my hand into the copper strands at the base of her skull and pull her head back just enough to make her gasp.
She moans when I do, clamping down around me so hard my vision blurs.
“That’s it. Just like that.”
I keep the rhythm brutal and deep. One hand locked in her hair, keeping her spine arched, her head tilted, mouth open. The other hand tight on her clit, rubbing fast, wet circles, until I feel her body jerk with every pass.
It’s building in her. I know the signs. The way her thighs tremble. The way she tightens around me. The way her moans pitch higher. It’s doing something to me, too. My legs burn from the force of it. Every muscle is straining to hold on. I’m dripping with sweat and it only makes our bodies slide together more.
