She makes a small sound of what are you doing but doesn’t protest.
“You’re not done?” she says into the pillow.
“No.”
“Jax.”
“Yeah.”
“You just—”
“I know.”
“You can’t possibly—”
“I can.”
I run my hand down her back. The line of her spine. The curve of her hip. Up over the swell of her ass. She makes a small sound and her hips lift slightly off the bed without her deciding to do it.
I get my hand between her thighs from behind.
She’s soaked — her thighs, her cunt, all of it — and my hand slides through it and she gasps into the pillow and I’m hardening again with my hand on her like that is the only thing that has ever needed to happen.
I get behind her.
Knees between her thighs. Hand on her hips. Pull her up onto her knees in front of me, her face still down in the pillow, her back curved.
I look at her like that for a second.
I slide into her from behind.
Easy. All the way. She’s so open and ready I’m buried in her in one slow push and she makes a sound into the pillow I have never heard her make.
“Christ.”
“Yeah.”
I bury myself.
I hold there. Both of my hands on her hips. Her ass against me. My cock as deep in her as I can get — I’m not in a hurry, I’m not moving yet, I am just there — inside her, holding her, feeling every part of her wrapped around every part of me.
“Jax.”
“Yeah.”
“Move.”
“In a second.”
“Jax. Move.”
I start to move.
Slow. Deep. The angle hits different and I can feel it — hitting her somewhere new — and she can feel it too because her hand fists in the pillow and her face presses down and she makes a sound that isn’t a word.
“I know,” I say.
I move faster. Deeper. My hands on her hips pulling her back into every thrust. The wetness of her. The slap of skin. The sound of her breath catching every time I hit deep.
