My hands stay where they are, holding her steady while she sets the pace, taking exactly what she wants. I’m not interested in stopping her. I’m too busy watching.
Another slow roll pulls a breath out of me. She eases back even further, taking her time now, her eyes fixed on my face as if she’s tracking every reaction.
Then her hand slips between us.
The change in her expression is immediate. Her lips part slightly. Her grip is slow, certain. One stroke from base to tip, and the sound that leaves me escapes before I can stop it. Her thumb brushes over the head, and the sensation hits all at once.
She shifts forward, lining us up, then pauses.
Keeps me there, right at the edge.
The heat of her just there, not moving.
She holds my gaze long enough that there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. Long enough that I feel every second of it.
Then she lowers herself down, taking her time. A low sound leaves her that she doesn’t try to hide, her head tipping back while her hands flatten against my chest.
I lift into her, holding the space between us.
The reaction is immediate. The sound that breaks from her is sharper this time, her hands tightening against my chest like she needs something to brace against.
“Oh—”
I do it again. Same controlled movement.
Her body answers before she can stop it—hips moving with mine, thighs tightening around me.
She shifts slightly, testing the angle, and I feel the exact moment she finds it. The change. The way her body reacts before she says a word.
Her hips begin to move, slow at first. I don’t guide her. I just hold her and let her take it wherever she wants. She finds the rhythm on her own.
She always does.
I feel it settle in—the steady pace, the change in her breathing.
I watch her. The way she moves over me. The way her head tips back. The way her hands stay braced against my chest.
A slow roll of her hips sends another crack through whatever part of me is still thinking clearly.
Then another.
She keeps it steady, like we have all the time in the world.
We don’t.
Doesn’t change anything.
She leans back, changing the angle, and her reaction is instant.
“Oh God.”
Her head dips forward, hair falling around her face, and her pace starts to build. Subtle at first, then more deliberate.
“Dane—”
The way she says my name tells me exactly how close she is.
I feel my own limit a second later.
